


Somedays I Can't Breathe

by AllHailTheUnderDogs



Series: Some Days [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Because I forgot that badboy last time, Blow Jobs, Dancing, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Hopeful Ending, Klaus gets a cat, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Protective Ben Hargreeves, Pseudo-Incest, That may or may not have some mystical business going on, The Even trio are the best, Vanya is a supportive sister, fixed future, pogo lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2019-11-14 04:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 52,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18045083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllHailTheUnderDogs/pseuds/AllHailTheUnderDogs
Summary: Klaus has made his phone call, he’s carefully set the line and he resolves to stick with it. Of course nobody bothers listening to what he wants, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be the follow up of the positive choice made in my first fanfic and yet it's still managed to end up with a fair amount of angst, although I swear it's not all sad, especially in the next chapter. I had to crack this into two parts because the word count just became ridiculous so I hope no one minds. :)
> 
> Thank you for all of the wonderfully kind comments on the last fanfic, I hope that you enjoy <3

Ludford’s fucking late. _Again_.

Klaus shifts his weight from one foot to the other, tries and fails to not look like he’s about to buy drugs off of a well known dealer. This lateness is a show that Klaus has no patience for, the guys screwing with him just because Klaus insisted on the location.

Rain’s sluicing down and bubbling in torrents, flooding the street, it has him yanking the hood of his jacket higher, not helping with the imagery but it’ll have to do because he’s already soaked and the last thing he needs is a cold. This wouldn’t have been necessary, Klaus should be passed out on his couch blitzed out of his mind instead of standing around in this week long storm that seems to get worse with each fucking day.

He has no guilt over blaming Diego for his current predicament.

The scraggly college student he normally hits up won’t come near him anymore, it’s not his fault, Klaus would have scarpered as well. It’s not everyday that your usual customers wannabe Batman bodyguard lands a twenty foot drop and threatens to slice their throat open if they go for the weapon tucked into their belt.

Klaus’ voice cracks as he hisses his displeasure when Diego tries to defend his actions.

“He could have killed you!”

“Every dealer carries. It’s a fucking accessory shitbird!”

So that options out, and the next two he comes across are complete strangers that he’s tracked down. Mind focusing for once on the task of finding a substance that’ll erase the sensation of spiders scuttling across his flesh.

One only has the cheap, cut down shit and Klaus gets cocky, thinks that he has time to find better, like he’s suddenly developed morals. The other guy…

“You were right one time.” The confession tastes acrid on his tongue.

“You're welcome.”

“Fuck off.”

“Who called who first?”

Klaus scowls and decides against pointing out that he hadn’t signed up for a knock off superhero fucking up his dealings. He rests himself against a dumpster covered partially by a fire escape, shivering hands flicking at his lighter as he smokes up the last of his weed. Diego’s wiping the blood off of his blade and Klaus refuses to acknowledge the curve of his mouth as it quirks up.

It _was_ rather amusing to watch the greasy shit reaching for his gun and before the things untucked from his waist band- so fucking _original_ \- there’s a familiar whistle and an impressive spray of blood from a relatively minor cut spanning the guys bicep.

Typical for Klaus’ luck the fucker only drops the gun when he bolts. 

He has to collar Diego before the furious man gives chase, the last thing he needs is a dead dealer coming back to bite him in the ass. And not in the way he likes either.

Ludford’s a monumental prick, but he’s a straight up type of dealer, there’s none of the shady behaviour that you get from the others, he knows who Klaus is, who his ‘ _father’_ is and that means he’ll bring some decent shit. Klaus waits out this power play and tries not to wince when he thinks about the premiums he’s about to get hit with. Mentally reviews his list of curses to use on the bastard he knows is perched up on the rooftop opposite them, the perfect viewpoint.

He gives the quickest of glances towards the building, satisfied that the terrace cover he’d previously spotted keeps the worst of the weather at bay.

 

* * *

 

Klaus has nothing against Diego getting something out of this fucked up arrangement.

What he has an issue with is the futile attempts at expanding the times they spend together outside of Diego fucking his anxious brain silent. 

He’s does a rather spectacular job of distracting Two whenever the topics bought up, superior as their genes are, there’s nothing that scrambles the thought process better than somebody dropping to their knees in front of you.

Klaus tries not to smirk when an audible gulp clashes with the gratifying _click_ of Diego’s belt buckle. He trails a path of broken kisses and harsh bites across firm abdominals, descending down until he’s mouthing the hard line under those briefs and there’s fingers grasping, beautifully tight, in his hair. He works Diego’s cock free and traces the throbbing vein with his tongue.

“Kla- You don’t have to-”

He cuts Two off by taking him to the back of his throat, groaning when hips buck and he hums around the weight. He’s always enjoyed coaxing hoarse noises out of people, gotten off to them more often than not, and the suppressed whines that Diego hides behind the knuckles of a clenched fist are particularly potent.

Diego's other hand rests in Klaus’ hair, fingers fisted around the curls and they aren’t trying to guide or move him in anyway. They’re just unignorably there and it’s the preconstruction playing out in his mind, of Diego using his mouth to fuck himself through his own pleasure that has Klaus moaning around his length.

He takes him deep, forcing Diego’s cock as far back as he can, ignoring the spasm that quivers in his throat, at the limits of what he can take, there’s too much saliva and precome that he knows it’s drooling down his chin. Klaus doesn’t give two shits when he has Diego’s trembling hips firmly pinned to the wall, and he can feel minute ripples racing over tan flesh. Diego lets him keep this pretence of immobility, like the guy couldn’t break Klaus’ hold with the barest of efforts.

It’s a fatal mistake to glance up.

Diego’s watching him, eyes burning with desire that has Klaus’ dick twitching uncomfortably and he presses a hand against his cock, grinds into the pressure in a feeble attempt to slake the worst of his hunger. When he hollows his cheeks and his tongue flicks teasing touches to the swollen head leaking copious amounts of precome into his gluttonous mouth, Two’s growl breaks off into something nearing a whine.

His blood quickens as he realises that Diego’s a wreck, destroyed because of Klaus.

Diego comes with an invocation of Klaus’ name, a litany that tumbles from his mouth in rough gasps and Klaus sucks him down, greedily swallowing the bitter pulses of fluid. It’s been a long time since Klaus remembers enjoying this, whining around the heat and pressure that has his jaw aching in the most delicious way.

His brain clouds with a wave of _need_ and he tries to divert that haze with the distraction of Diego’s overstimulated flinch when Klaus lazily laps at his softening cock. He feels strangely defeated when Diego pulls him up into a searing kiss that his him squirming, because _fuck_ he’s hard. He isn’t expecting much in return, at this point it’s sad to admit but Klaus thinks he can get off by rutting against Diego’s thigh, beyond any shame such an act would bring.

It’s unexpected when a hand slides under his boxers, closes around him and _squeezes_ , a hot mouth swallows his whimper and Klaus should know by now that Diego can’t tolerate the balance being uneven. He doesn’t complain when the man wrecks him with just his lips and teeth and tongue.

Klaus will deny the needy, _keening_ noises he makes until the day he dies.

 

* * *

 

Ben comes back to him.

Klaus has made tremendous effort in lugging his weary body onto the couch to watch some generic sitcom. Diego’s been suggesting he does something _other_ than lounging in bed getting high. Klaus wouldn’t listen normally but he’s a little bit out of it when he’s being railed over his kitchen counter and the bastard sneaks the comment in.

Klaus gasps out a promise between the quaking pleasure from Diego’s slowly twisting hips hitting his prostate with unerring accuracy, canines biting and bruising a mark possessively along the slope of his shoulder. He never returns the gesture, even when he knows that they’d be gratefully received, he has no claim over Diego, repudiates Two whenever he tries to say otherwise.

They're both painfully aware what marks like that announce to the world, what they declare between them, that Klaus has accepted there’s no golden path in the future that’ll lead him back to Dave. He has to endure an existence where he’ll never see that handsome smile again.

Klaus deliberately forgets in these moments how much he begs for more. For _harder _.__

Diego takes pity on him as his pace turns punishing and there’s going to be a day when he doesn’t relent to Klaus’ pleas, he’ll gently guide Klaus through the intimacy he’s been avoiding with soft hands and that terribly fond smile.

Klaus is petrified of the day he’ll want it.

So he makes this small concession, follows through on it because after all he’s a man of his word. _Fucking liar._ The couch counts as moving.

Klaus is about to wind down, the mind numbing buzz he’s achieved through a precise balance of ethanol and sleep deprivation is starting to tip towards a dozy haze.

He’s as afraid of sleeping as he’s become of dying.

Klaus’ considering whether the effort of hauling himself to the kitchen and making a coffee is worth his time when there’s a tingle along his scalp and he knows that Ben’s perched by his feet. “You watch some weird stuff.”

“Change the channel then.” He can’t resist peeking a glance just to be sure that Ben’s really there. He is. And it’s so fucking wonderful that his head aches with a sombre adoration for his brother.

“Ever the funny sibling” Ben eyes him over, Klaus waits for the same lecture he’s heard a thousand different variations of over the last few months. “You don’t look shit for once.”

“Says the dead man.”

“That’s my excuse, what’s yours?”

Klaus wants to smile at his brother, his only companion that’ll never truly leave him behind. He’s not quite there yet, and from Ben’s crooked grin it’s evident that he gets it. They watch the piss poor excuse for a show, Ben deconstructs the scenes and makes scathing comments on each character, not leaving a space for Klaus to join in. One day he’ll let his brother know how grateful he is for the kind act.

Klaus isn’t aware that he drifts off, the only indicator between blinking is the sudden change in light. The cast over grey of pre dawn and the flickering light bulb over head is replaced by shafts of sunlight between his shuttered blinds and Klaus takes a very human moment to breath whilst he looks around the room.

Ben’s gone.

He’ll be back though. Klaus ignores the prickling of his eyes at the thought.

 

* * *

 

What, in the ever loving fuck, is this?

Klaus scowls at his intruder, the little shit stalks through his apartment with no consideration to the noise it’s claws make on the floorboards as it mewls, the noise of it sets his skin on edge while he’s smoking in the shower to defend himself against the chill that’s intent on obliterating the fraying control that he’s reclaimed recently.

He could listen to Ben, as he sits cross legged on the toilet, and just call Diego to come and fuck him back into something resembling a person. At the same time, no fucking thank you, his joint does a perfectly good job without the added complications Two brings with him.

So Klaus doesn’t appreciate being dragged away from such an important task to track down the source of the racket, he’s considering stabbing the feline when he finally finds it, sat on a counter as it surveys the room with, in Klaus’ unbias opinion, a snootily disdainful look.

_Prick _.__

He doesn’t think it’s alive to begin with, not that he’s had much experience with undead animals, it just seems much more likely than a real living cat showing up out of nowhere. He ignores it, resuming his activities in the shower stall, blurring between coherency and the glittering sheen slowly webbing across his vision.

__“_ Ow! Son of a-”_

Pain lances out of the claw marks on his hand, pulls him out of that perfect blend and Klaus isn’t fucking happy about the blood beading up. The ginger queen shakes herself in a manner that tells Klaus that he’d better pay attention or there’s more of that on the way.

_There’s a fucking cat in his apartment._

He stumbles to the sink and splashes tepid water to his skin, bleary eyes staring back in the cracked mirror. He doesn’t bother drying as he spins on his heel in time to see her hopping up onto the radiator.

It’s ludicrous, he lives on the fourth floor. How the hell did she get in?

“You have a cat.” Ben cackles by Klaus’ shoulder.

No he fucking doesn’t.

“Isn’t she… you know…” He pretends to make a noose, tilting his head and crossing his eyes.

“Don’t be stupid Klaus.” Which isn’t exactly an answer.

He grouches and side steps carefully around her when she tries to approach him, rapidly retreating towards the kitchen. He does _not_ jump when she sneaks behind him and scales his back like a fucking monkey, and despite Ben’s snicker he does _not_ shriek when she settles down on his shoulder. He does however shift her off and waves some leftover Chinese in a carton as a deterrent when shrewd eyes size him up.

“She looks underweight, maybe it’s a stray?” His brother muses as Klaus lingers against the far wall whilst it demolishes the takeaway food. She does appear rather battered and filthy, an obnoxious pang reverberates through his chest when he spies a grotesque scar running along one ear and tapering off near the edge of her mouth, marring the ruffled fur.

“Don’t care, she’s gotta go.” He can’t even drag his own life up from the dirt, let alone take on a dependant.

The battle wages for a week, much to Ben’s delight. Klaus has met a worthy adversary in the shape of a bedraggled feline. But he’s a veteran, he’s fought much worse enemies than this, and he will not be defeated by an entitled ginger menace. 

Klaus shoos her out the front door.

She haughtily slinks into his bedroom and hops up to judge him when he’s attending to _personal_ needs.

He travels down to the buildings lobby, ignoring soft purrs as he clutches her to his chest before leaving her on the sidewalk.

She shatters a stained ceramic mug, kicking it off of the table as she hikes along it.

He drops her off at the local vets, trying not to flip off the receptionist when she snarkily informs him that they prefer not to take strays.

She rakes her claws down his bare chest in the rare moment he falls asleep.

Extreme measures are taken, the windows are fastened shut, he locks the door, slamming the dead bolt across, going so far as to ram one of his kimonos under the fingernail width of a gap at the base and Klaus refuses all visitors for the next 48 hours as he camps down to wait the feline out. Well he technically only has one person left alive that comes over. Diego chuckles as Klaus tries to explain how he’s being held hostage by the furry bastard, and before Klaus can tell him to do something questionable to his own anatomy, there’s crashing and grunting and- was that a fucking _gunshot_?

“Don’t worry about it.” Diego answers before he can ask. “I’m out with Luther.”

Klaus decides against pushing the matter, if Diego was in any real harm then he wouldn’t be answering his god damn phone and laughing at Klaus’ problem. He hangs up and glowers at the device before collecting a bottle and downing shot after shot, only for the reason that he’s pissed off at the world, not because there’s a sheen of sweat coating his skin suddenly.

(Later when the screen lights up with a message asking for updates on the siege, Klaus stares for an extraordinarily long time, until his eyes blur from the strain).

“Isn’t this a bit extreme?” Ben says from his position reclining on the floor, leaning up on his arms and his mirthful countenance is the flint striking Klaus’ exhausted tinder.

“I swear to god I’ll douse you in holy water. 

“Oooh don’t just stop there, spank me with a bible _daddy_.” Ben’s sarcastically retorts.

There’s something infuriating about his foot gliding through his brothers form as he tries to kick him, even worse when he doesn’t stop the momentum in time and he rebounds off a table leg. In between bouts of cursing so blue it would make a sailor blush, Ben guffaws, rolling across the floor as he clutches his side.

Klaus holds up a single digit.

It’s his victory when they’re still clear the next day and just as he’s patting himself on the back, Klaus hears a quiet chirp and there’s a resounding smash followed by scrabbling paws. He barely dares to look at the broken glass and alcohol pooling across the floor.

Klaus is done!

He swipes her up and sneaks out of his own fucking apartment like a god damn criminal in the early hours of the morning, skulks blindly down street after street until his feet sting, calls a mother fucking taxi and at the last minute dives inside, slamming the door behind him. Not really required when he twists to look out of the window, she stares at the retreating vehicle, head cocking to the side.

There’s not a drop of guilt fizzling in his gut, not one little bit.

He repeats the mantra on a loop when he climbs out of the taxi and makes his way towards the front entrance. It’s fucking embarrassing the smile that cracks Klaus’ stiff face when he feels something thump against his back, scrambles, and a disgruntled feline purrs on his shoulder, claws digging in through his shirt.

He takes the bat to his ear and starts the long climb up the stairwell.

“If you wanna stay then you need a bath.” He informs her as he inhales a noxious odour, she peers down at him, golden eyes telling him precisely where he can shove that idea.

One pitifully short attempt later Klaus is sat cradling his ~~hand~~  - whole fucking arm - to his chest and taking shots of vodka, for medicinal purposes. She joins him, sitting on the table, daintily cleaning away the evidence of Klaus’ DNA and he swears she’s grinning at him.

“Blood thirsty little shit!” He hums to cover the laugh that buzzes in his throat when she bobs her head.

Klaus owns a fucking cat.

 

* * *

 

Klaus isn’t in the mood when Diego shows up.

He hasn’t slept in days, hasn’t showered or eaten in almost as long, his stomach burns and Klaus doesn’t care for much of anything. Ben’s sitting cross legged on a kitchen chair Klaus managed to drag over earlier, thankfully Six is quiet, the fracturing pain bursting through Klaus’ temples doesn’t allow conversation. Their trashiest sitcom is on and Klaus can’t even care enough to point out when they utilise the stereotypical miscommunication trope that Ben normally sneers at.

Diego lets himself in, the sound of the lock turning makes Klaus’ brain crack into long piercing shards.

He vaguely remembers a text yesterday, some plan for this evening that involves a Klaus that’s far less fucked up than this one. If such a thing is possible.

It’s the sprinkles on the top of his shit show of a day, he’s going to decline sex one time and Diego’s going to realise that Klaus isn’t good for a fuck. Won’t try on any other day when Klaus _isn’t_  weighed down by day’s of exhaustion and living nightmares of war and blood.

Instead there’s a hand nudging his leg, giving up when it’s evident that Klaus isn’t moving, he suppresses a yelp when his limbs are casually lifted up. Klaus props his weight on his elbows, tries to express his distaste at being moved and shudders instead when Diego settles Klaus’ feet on his lap. One large hand rests on his ankle, it sears through his flesh and Klaus is about to snap that he’s _really_  not in the mood.

Diego doesn’t move. There’s no _accidental_  motion, fingers don’t skirt along his calf in a paltry attempt to tease him. Instead Klaus clenches his jaw against the soothing circles Diego’s thumb rubs lazily over his skin, smothering the sigh that almost filters out.

He doesn’t relax, not initially, even when he turns on his side to block out the sight beside him, wincing when it jars his fragile head. It hurts to think but his mind is racing without his permission, panic settling over his frame.

What the fuck did Diego want from him? Why was he so insistent on pushing for more? There’s no chance that the idiot can really want the colossal clusterfuck that is Klaus. The thought has a cheap laugh bubbling behind his lips before he flinches away from it, paranoia and insecurity and fatigue builds. He can picture it now, like rows of mortar and brick, a culmination of all the pain and terror, solidifying into an impenetrable barricade, his stronghold against the world.

It’s miserable, the stiffness in his joints eases under firm touches and Klaus has this nasty suspicion that he knows that this is the sort of connection that Diego tries to push him for.

He surreptitiously takes a peek over his shoulder, scans Diego’s expression for the real reason he’s doing this. It’s a nice face, when he lets himself accept the observation, one that he can see someone whiling away their life mapping out the curves of. He’s really fucked up when he can marvel at the sharp angles of Diego’s cheekbones and at the same time wonder whether he can shatter himself against them.

There’s a quiet hush to the air, but it's not a silence that's empty. Klaus has spent so many years trying to scream louder than the ghosts surrounding him that this nothingness doesn’t scare him like it should. Their two people that have done so much, know each other so implicitly that they can fill the void with their presence alone and Klaus realises this at the same time he notices the way his muscles have gone lax under talented fingers.

His brain feels like there’s someone levigating it and Klaus wants the same blissful sensation to spread along his skull. He could do with a deity to give him wisdom and guidance for this situation, when no flash of lightening or toga wearing, bearded fucker shows up he’s left with two choices.

Something akin to resolves settles over Klaus. He makes the decision. With as much fluidity as his shuddering body can allow Klaus clambers to his knees and switches his position, gracelessly dropping down, head settling into Diego’s lap, and _fuck_ if the space isn’t just right.

There’s _is_ a god to thank, Diego doesn’t falter, fingers ease over his clammy scalp and then he’s applying just the right sort of pressure that dulls out the pain.

He wonders whether it’s wise to trust the hands he’s seen _so_ many times take Klaus apart with little more than a wicked smile, _so_ close, when he’s _so_ very vulnerable.

He buries a smile in the warmth of Diego’s thighs when nails gently drag through his hair.

Klaus has always trusted Diego, for better or worse, it’s acidic the betrayal he knows he should feel in this moment as he clenches the dog tags in a tight fist, he can feel the imprint branding itself into his palm. He’s fucking everything up and honestly… Klaus couldn’t care less if the moon exploded on them here and now, as long as those fingers stay buried in his hair.

__“_ Good boy.”_

 

* * *

 

This is such a ghastly idea. 

Klaus grimaces as he shuffles nervously up and down the aisle, trying to reason with himself about what the fuck he’s doing moderately sober on a Wednesday afternoon shopping for cat food. He doesn’t blame one parent who clutches her shiny child to her side like Klaus is going to grab her and dash for the door, he feels displaced and suffocated. There’s too many people around him, normal fucking people. What was _wrong_ with them all, going about their day like they weren’t all miserable in the banality of their lives.

It doesn’t help when all he can think about is the mortifying way his body hummed and quivered at the low pitch of Diego’s _‘good boy’_ , he’s lost the upper hand, it’s long fucking gone, probably carried away with his pathetic whimper. Diego keeps managing to take the inch Klaus is willing to offer, the wavering steps, and his enthusiasm blasts them unsteadily along. Klaus is still deciding how he feels about the matter.

What the hell was it with Diego’s talent for wrecking him with two words.

“Klaus?"

Vanya’s waving her hand, Klaus jolts when he realises that he’s been agitatedly muttering in front of the shelves for the last few minutes and there’s far lesser people around him than before. Like they’ve never seen a man in sheer panel leggings and a crop top arguing with a bag of dry kibble before.

“Talking to Ben?”

“Yeah.” He lies.

“How’re you doing Ben?”

Klaus subconsciously relaxes, Vanya since she first found out about their brother has made a habit of addressing Ben and relying on Klaus for answers only. It’s the conscientious effort he’s come to expect from the sibling who they’d all happily allowed to live in the shadows for most of their lives.

He feeds her another small lie. “He’s good.”

“So… you have anything specific in mind?” She gets straight to the point and he awkwardly gestures around them.

“Not a clue.”

“What have you been feeding her so far?”

Klaus shuffles guiltily. “A bit of this and that.”

Vanya doesn’t scoff at him, she’s too busy tossing things in a basket that he never thought to pick up, Klaus eyes the growing pile warily, compares the prices with how many pills he can obtain for the same amount. Klaus shakes his head, resolutely making an effort to peer over her shoulder at the selection.

“Cat isn’t there all of the time, she fucks off a lot, comes back every now and then.” He offers uselessly, starting to feel surplus, Vanya has this under control.

“What’s her name?”

“Cat.”

“I know that she’s a cat, what have you called her?”

“Cat.” Klaus frowns, he’s pretty sure that Vanya isn’t going deaf, though she’s sure as fuck acting like it.

“Please don’t tell me you haven’t named the poor thing.” Vanya wouldn’t say that if she’d been there this morning when the little psycho had woken him up by sinking her fangs into one of his toes.

“She’s a bitch Vanya.” A sharply dressed man tuts loudly as he passes and Klaus, without any thought, winks audaciously straight to his ruddy face.

Vanya stares, and a fraction of a second later Klaus realises what he’s done.

He panics, this is going too fast, fatigue already hovers over his body from the strain of Diego’s words and this is another blow to his psyche. It’s nauseating and yet there’s a traitorously small part that exclaims over unearthing that little glint of _Klaus_ buried under all of the rot. A tiny, precious, uncorrupted piece of him that, with a little care, might still be worth something at the end of all this.

Vanya says nothing but there’s a glimmer of something unidentifiable in those clever eyes, and Klaus feels dangerously exposed from the scrutiny of that gaze.

He does the impossible and carves out another gem of old Klaus to deflect the attention.

“I suppose I could call her FUBAR.” Vanya gapes at his meretricious smile, her surprise manages to cover the way his nervous fingers twitch. “Too much?”

“Stick with Cat you monster.” Klaus almost pushes for a more genuine reaction as Vanya beams up at him. He diverts the energy, storing it deep in case there’s another minefield to navigate.

He falters at the checkout counter for no other reason than the teen behind the till calls him _sir_. Vanya’s swiping her card and steering him out of the store before he can quite work out why he’s short of breath. They get half way through the parking lot before Klaus is swinging around, fishing through the pockets of the oversized leather jacket that he’d swiped off his bedroom floor that morning. He is _not_ a charity case, Vanya stops him with one hand hesitantly placed on his sleeve.

“Think of it as pay back for all of the entertainment I’ve had.”

“What?” His eyes narrow suspiciously.

“Five’s obsession with creating a fire proof suit for Dolores.”

The words register, his brain sluggishly provides the memory after a moment.

“Diego keeps dropping lighters around the house and Five’s started carrying a fire extinguisher around wherever he goes, he’s swearing blind that you’ve been sneaking back in to fuck with him.”

Klaus parses through the information, brows furrowing. “What about the camera’s _dear_ old dad set up?”

Vanya smirks and Klaus likes the mischievous expression that loosens her usually stiff façade. “Luther may have accidentally fallen into some of the terminals, you know how big and clumsy he can be. Five was rather unkind when he found out, started suggesting it was done on purpose and Allison overheard him ranting when he was trying to fix the damage. It wasn’t civil. Diego really didn’t help when he started playing that burning love song on his phone, Five lost it and threw a screwdriver at his head.”

Klaus swallows as he imagines the scene his absurd family made, and then laughs. Howls and gasps through the tears catching in his eyes, and he’s bending over from the force shivering through his frame. Vanya’s giggles join him and Klaus doesn’t realise that he’s got a hand on her shoulder to steady himself, and she’s pressing her knuckles against her mouth and Klaus is almost hiccupping and crying with the purest of releases.

 

* * *

 

The day spirals violently out of control when Klaus finds the eye liner pencil tucked away behind a pile of dirty laundry. 

The discovery initially excites him, another kernel of light glowing inside his chest. There was a time that this was Klaus’ shield against the world and he wonders if it might give him that power now. He balances against the sink, Cat hovers on her spot atop the radiator and Klaus can tell she approves of his work as he swipes bold lines along his eyelids. Ben’s face when he shows up spurs Klaus on.

The finished effect takes him back years, to a Klaus that thought the worse life had to throw at him was his fathers obsession. Now he’s standing in this cheap, shitty apartment with a cat that sporadically disappears and a brother who hasn’t a choice but to linger. He suddenly can’t cope with thinking about Two right now, not when he realises that this is it. What was enough beforehand is a pittance to the future Klaus could have had, with a love who’s absence leaves him in ruins.

It crashes down on him then, with no scrap of mercy to soften the blow. This is his life now. Dave’s never going to walk beside him again, he’ll never see those warm eyes crinkle from the smiles that he gifted to Klaus like they cost nothing. He’s never going to dance with the man that made his weary heart skip and stutter, there’s no more safety from a hand gripping his when he’s afraid. Klaus is going to age and wither away through the years and Dave won’t be there to experience it all with him.

_Bring him back. Please. I’ll do anything._

He can’t endure this, can’t breath, can’t _live_ without…

_Stop it. Stop it. Stop it._

Klaus pulls away from the sink, blindly staggers towards the stash he’s hidden at the back of his kitchen cabinet, crashing to the floor as he drowns the pills with long drains from a nearby bottle.

_I can’t breathe._

The barrier he’s maintained for so long crumbles, erodes with every pump of his heart, each beat one that Dave will never have, will never _share_ with Klaus. The pop of gunfire rains down on his stronghold as he scrambles to hold Dave’s face in his mind, makes bargains with the immortals for something he’ll never have.

_I haven’t forgotten you Dave._

“Klaus?”

Where has Ben come from?

“Klaus, what have you taken?”

If he’d shut the fuck up Klaus might be able to find the right string of letters to form the perfect barter for Dave’s life. Five once told him that the right words can change the world.

_I was praying you and I would end up together._

Everything’s going to be alright, Dave’s outline blurs and Klaus pushes more alcohol down, he’ll split himself apart to cling to his soldier.

_It’s all dark._

_“Klaus!”_

There’s something happening to him, sinister poison trickling through his system since the worse night of his life. _I don’t know what's wrong. I want it to Stop!_ The memories he possess are gone, fluttering away in ribbons of light and Klaus knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he _must_ have something left to cling to. _The soldier_. The feeling’s there, but there’s also an _emptiness._ Like someone’s scooped out his innards and left only the shell of Klaus behind. Where there had been _soldier_ now there’s a blank, a greyed out mental afterimage with no face, no name, and not a scrap of a memory.

Ben’s screaming at him, pushing to gain a corporeal form as he kneels. It’s funny, Klaus has never realised that a spirit can cry.

A shroud of warmth beckons him closer as it descends and Klaus thinks that it might be quite pleasant to surrender his cold body. He tries to lift his head, giggles when it bounces uselessly, chin tapping against his chest.

_He’s so tired._

If Ben would be _quiet_  then Klaus might finally get to sleep. Each nerve scraping word his brother roars has a jagged spear of pain lancing through his skull, it’s when he goes to snap back and his tongues lolls uselessly, Klaus’ realises with a startling clarity what’s happening.

He’s going to die.

The realisation hit’s him as sharply as Cat’s claws flaying his arm apart.

_No.No.No.No.No.No.No.No._

He’s rising and stumbling, legs failing at the last moment as he collapses against the toilet and Klaus is ramming fingers down his throat and hurling up bile and vomit until his stomachs empty and his body’s broken on the floor.

“-Klaus”

Ben’s lying down, face pressed against the tiles as his fingers glitch through Klaus’ skin. He tries to summon enough energy, but there’s nothing and he’s screaming as his body feels horrifyingly foreign.

“I’m here Klaus.” Ben, his most treasured companion, Klaus repays that love by almost making him watch…

Purring warmth scolds his chest as Cat forces a space for herself against his sluggish heart, and the three of them stay curled up on the floor together whilst Klaus clutches the feline closer to his skin and shame floods his body at the tears streaking down his brothers face.

“Call him.”

_It’s never going to be enough._

Klaus can’t do this, he’s not strong enough.

“If something happens I’m _useless_ , I can’t do anything. Please Klaus.” A helpless choking sob breaks the pitiful remains of his heart, forces him to _move_.

“Don’t let me sleep.” He thinks that’s what comes out of his shredded throat.

Ben’s nodding, still crying, shaking in a way that no spirit should and Klaus wants to burn for doing this to him.

Ben crawls with him as he takes on the monumental task of crossing to the bedroom, gentle encouragements help, Cat joins them, pushes him forward with soft nips to his side when he falters. Stretching to grab the phone off the bed covers drains every drop of his reserves and the lack of heat or even ice terrifies Klaus. Hollow stillness settles in his bones and there’s only one person who’s been able to inject molten heat into his veins, only one alive and willing to bother, and Klaus needs him here before he flickers out.

The empty, stretching void drawing him in has his fingers fumbling for the right number, fucking it up once, twice, _shit_ , the third try lands and the husky voice that answers destroys the last feeble pieces of his barricade. Klaus can’t stop the hysteria, searching for air as his words clog and choke in his throat, there’s an exhalation on the line and a muffled thump.

“You still there?”

He nods uselessly, gasping for breath, for oxygen that doesn’t want to come.

Diego understands. “Good, now listen to me very carefully-”

Klaus focuses on the nonsensical string of words, on the pitch of each syllable, Cat kneads her paws into his arm, her fur grazing his tingling fingers, and Klaus holds Ben’s eyes because his brother has saved his life and there’s no words that’ll ever convey how fucking grateful he is. Each breath is a labour and it’s disgusting how desperately he savours them, how he almost destroyed this finite existence for a mind numbing high because he was too _weak_ to cope.

Diego’s voice anchors him in this miserable reality.

Klaus is in bad shape, an understatement that’s emphasized when the tinny vocals morph and he doesn’t realise, not even when there’s a crack whipping through the air and later he’ll realise that he needs a new dead bolt.

In the present he’s balled up on the floor, soaked in sweat and vomit and blood, and Diego looms in the open doorway, face bleaching of colour as he takes in the mess that Klaus has created.

“I need you.”

The whisper tears and catches, hitching as his shoulders shake through another sob and Klaus has to shut his eyes from the shame. Diego’s arms startle his overwrought nerves, they become a cage encasing him and it’s suffocating, too much contact for his broken body, and _never_ has Klaus felt safer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes a village to raise a child. It takes a fucked up family to get through withdrawal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one small note, I’ve been very liberal and easy on the technicalities of sobriety and withdrawal. I’ve allowed a lot of leeway because of Klaus’ nature in the show, that our very first scene with him is being resuscitated and hysterically laughing made me very lax so I hope this doesn’t offend anybody as it’s truly not intended to.
> 
> Also I'm really sorry that I changed the length of this fic again, this chapter would have been about 15k otherwise :)

“Diego, c’mon.”

“It’s not up for discussion.”

Klaus crouches under the frigid water cascading over his skin and attempts to convey just how angry he is, the effect is ruined when he has to sniffle and another cramp seizes up his muscles in an agonizing wave.

When it passes he shrugs off the consoling hand tracing figures of eight over his skin and tries again. “I need something to get through this shitbird.”

“You don’t, unless you want to end up in rehab?”

“Try it and I’ll sic Ben on your ass.”

“No you will _not.”_ Ben pops his head around the door in time to see Klaus hunch over around another wave of misery.

“If you can summon him in this state then I’ll do anything you ask.” Diego offers like he’s worth that much effort and Klaus is genuinely trying before he realises what’s happening.

_Ah shit._

The best Klaus can summon is a leering grimace as he eyes up Two.

Ben scoffs from where he casually leans against the door jam. “Very impressive, keep it in your pants pervert.” Klaus has learnt his lesson about lashing out at spirits, it still doesn’t stop him from gripping one of the plastic shampoo bottles from the shower floor and lobbing it in Ben’s direction.

Six doesn’t flinch as it phases through his chest and clatters uselessly to the floor. Klaus is about to choose a few select phrases to give voice to when a familiar acidic twinge sears a line straight from his stomach all the way up- and into the toilet as he clings to the seat with a white knuckled grip.

This time he doesn’t push away the cool hands that press hair back from his burning skin, run up and down the ridge of his spine. When the worst has passed Klaus scuttles back under the stream of water, knees drawing up under his chin as he leans against the tiles and fixes his brothers with the nastiest look he can muster.

“It’s either doing this or getting admitted, your choice Klaus.”

He’s always been one to smash himself against the commands of others, a habit fostered, he thinks, inside his terrorised mind in the darkness of a mausoleum. Klaus is tenacious, crashing through life, achieving things his own way and be damned the consequences.

_So he should be able to quit when he damn well wants._

Unstoppable force meet the immovable man.

“Fuck you!”

“Maybe later, if you're good.”

_Fuck _.__

Klaus shivers under the shower’s unending assault and it’s not entirely down to the withdrawal.

 

* * *

 

There was a time when he was propped up in the nook of a quiet alleyway, sharing a lighter with this girl, he can’t remember her name now. His bloody nose was mushed against his own jacket, draped around her bare shoulders and they’d connected, not in the way that lead to favours whispered out in the dark corners of the streets. It was the type of link that forges when a boy sees a girl screaming in terror as a man tries to force her into a van and the rest of the world turns a blind eye.

Even when he escaped his fathers cage violence was always pressing against the windows of his life.

It was a pretty decent tackle if he did say so himself, he’d flown in like the superhero his father had tried to break his soul apart to become. He was Luther and Diego and Allison and Five and Ben and even sweet, brave Vanya. A noble being that descended on evil with fists and kicks (and teeth, he vows __never__ again when he spits out a mouthful of blood, terrible idea).

Of course unlike his glorious siblings Klaus was never designed for that sort of role, a perpetual let down who never fulfilled his potential. So he shouldn’t be surprised when a hand closes around his throat and blows viciously rained down over his body.

Then just as quickly he’s dropped to the floor, lungs greedily expanding through the pain, and he blinked up as slender hands gripped his biceps and tugged him to his feet, demanding that Klaus run with her. He spied through the tears, a shoe, snapped off at the heel and suspiciously wet at one end. Diego would have been proud.

She’d told him her name and he’d answered honestly with his as they stowed away from sight, talking through the shimmering high soaking their veins until the sky didn’t seem that dark and Klaus felt like he wasn’t really alone after all.

“There’s this thing called Kintsugi-” He listened to descriptions of gold lacquer and broken pieces forming a beautiful whole, she pulled a crumpled up picture out of her pocket, the page torn like it was ripped from a book.. “-that’s going to be me one day.”

“Sounds stupid.” He wheezed through what he’d hoped weren’t broken ribs.

“There’ll be someone special out there for everyone.”

“Who needs a guy to do it, just fix yourself.” _Raging hypocrite._

“It’s not the same thing, can’t you imagine what it would be like to have someone willing to try and make you shine.”

He didn’t get it, and he did.

Klaus dropped off for a few hours and he was alone again. His jacket folded neatly over his lap and he shifted uncomfortably stiff against the brickwork behind him. His pills and boots were gone. He grinned foolishly at his bare wriggling toes.

As he steadily plodded home, rustling from an inside pocket drew his attention, he rooted out a crinkled picture, the sheen of a lipstick kiss pressed against one corner and Klaus laughed, not quite believing that people could be quite so naïve.

Nobody questioned where he’d been as he trudged through the cold house, wandered into his room and crawled under the bed where he carefully placed the page in the box containing his most precious possessions.

He thought about that girl whenever their father _trained_ him, liked to imagine her some place sunny where her golden lines could shine, it made him feel alive whenever he was trapped in a place full of dead things.

 

* * *

 

The first few weeks are the worst.

It’s always the same, he’d begin with lofty intentions and after the first real pang of withdrawal would hit him all of those principles would be burnt out from long draws of a bottle.

Klaus _wants_ to stay clean this time, and he knows that this is his final chance, all of the clinics and doctors hadn’t managed to prevent him from finding a hit. Diego and Ben are the best chance he’s got of finally sorting his life out, only a fool would decline the help.

If he ever hurts Ben in that way again, Klaus knows he’ll finally go insane. _If you're not dead first._

It doesn’t mean he can’t whine about how shit the process is.

“It’s fucking cold.”

“Do you want another blanket?” Diego peers over from where he’s waiting by the door.

“No.” He’s petty and tired as he sweats and freezes at the same time, it’s not natural and he’s really not happy that Diego’s leaving.

In fact if he had a scrap of energy left he’d make a more detailed complaint, his go to _fuck you_  is ruined now Diego’s taken to detailing all of the ways he will when Klaus isn’t a disgusting- his own words- mess. As if the path to sobriety isn’t hard enough without fucking abstinence thrown in.

Klaus chalks it up to his drug deprived mind that he’s started saying the phrase regularly.

It’s irrational the frustration, he’s well aware that Diego has a life to attend to, can’t spend all of his time sleeping on Klaus’ couch. But having Diego to himself over the last few weeks has become a staple of his newly enforced routine, between the muddled days he’s become reliant on Two despite his best effort to resist.

The only reason he’s not starting to spiral is that it’s Vanya who’s spending the afternoon as his prison guard, after Diego she’s the only one he can tolerate when he’s quite this vulnerable.

He doesn’t register whatever exchange is happening when the door opens and instead tries to rearrange his feet as carefully as is possible when they feel like chips of ice. Ben grumbles as Klaus makes room for him to navigate back under the blanket and pop his head out through the narrow gap alongside Klaus’.

“Wanna know what they're saying about you?”

“No.”

“Sulking really isn’t attractive.”

Klaus refrains from informing him that his reticence stems from the fact that he’d drop to his knees in front of every dealer in the city if it meant he could get a decent hit right now. Not that Diego’s leaving. _For a few hours._

“Hey Klaus.”

He grunts in response.

“I bought you something.”

He perks up enough to peer in her direction and there’s a takeaway cup filled with something so sweet and sugary that Klaus can virtually see his blood levels rising as he reaches out to grab it.

“I’ll see you later.”

Klaus shuffles further under his den, carefully ignoring Diego’s half smile. He needs to get past this withdrawal before he goes and does something imbecilic like tell Two how much Klaus likes that he smells of leather and citrus from all of the damn oranges that Klaus has discovered he devours.

_You're so needy._

Another aspect of withdrawal that Klaus decides he fucking hates is the bleary awareness of time, he’s pretty sure he’s working on a decent parting shot for Diego and then he’s blinking and Vanya’s cross legged on a kitchen chair, face buried in a book. At least he managed not to end up with a lap full of liquid.

“She’s reading music sheets.”

Ben eyes his drink longingly and Klaus haughtily drains half the cup in one go.

Vanya notices his movement. “You're awake, sorry I would have moved that but you hiss in your sleep.”

“I do not.”

“She’s got a point.” _Traitor._

“Get your own blankets.”

“I didn’t know you were here Ben.”

Six almost vibrates at the address and Klaus resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“That’s great, I bought something for us to do that at least you’ll like.”

Vanya pulls out a board and a ziploc bag full of black and whites pieces, Ben disappears out of Klaus’ den and darts towards the table. It’s a curious enough sight- and he’s a bit miffed that Six left him- that Klaus hauls his weary body up and shuffles over to join them. 

“I can’t believe that it’s been so long since we played together.” Klaus resists pointing out that she’s looking in the wrong direction, Ben doesn’t seem to care, and Klaus can’t remember the last time he’s seen such a shy smile on his brothers face.

It’s why he doesn’t complain when he ends up waddled up on one of the chairs being dictated to by Ben’s instruction and neither of them say a word, Klaus doesn’t understand the attraction but neither of his siblings talk, assumes it’s one of those _comfortable_ silences. He satisfies himself with sipping the rest of his drink and trying to understand the game around the low pulsing throb at his temples.

He feels a little bit guilty for interrupting them when a roaring wave of bile crashes through his stomach and Klaus is shedding his blankets in favour for stumbling to his feet.

“Do you need me to-”

He’s waving Vanya off and impressively manages to make it to the toilet before nosediving and hurling up until his stomach contracts painfully. When Klaus’ is finally done his hypothalamus has decided to be a dick and overheats his body until he’s slick with sweat and Vanya’s voice drones like a drill to his skull and Klaus can’t rally his voice to shout at her to shut up.

He ignores the mirror, not needing to see his pallid skin, as he sinks his face under the cold faucet, not bothering to dry properly before going to rejoin his siblings. Some innate part of Klaus has him pausing in the doorway, angling to the side and he peers around the edge at the same time that Vanya’s voice filters through, and she’s not talking to herself like Klaus suspected.

“- I finally managed to finish Caprice No. 24 without stumbling. I know it shouldn’t matter but I wish dad was going to be there so I could see the look in his eyes when I play it. Silly right? You should come Ben, I mean even if Klaus doesn’t want to, you can still pop up, is that the right word for it? I could tell them to reserve a seat for you, now I know your definitely laughing at me, don’t try and deny it Ben… No, but you seriously need to be able to watch it like everyone else for the best effect.”

Vanya’s still sat in front of the table, given up on the chess board and Ben’s trembling in the middle of the room, eyes shimmering as he clutches his arms around his middle.

“I don’t think anyone else will have the time off, and I know you have a lot going on with Klaus so I understand if you can’t make it… Actually. No, you know what, I’m going to be selfish and book it anyway and if you don’t come then- well I won’t have a clue but I can imagine you feeling guilty about it.”

Vanya taps her fingers awkwardly against the table as she pauses for air and Klaus looks towards Ben again, and he’s staggered by the tears staining his cheeks and the shaking hand Six presses to his mouth isn’t covering the breadth of his smile. Ben sinks onto the couch, drawing his knees up and Klaus realises that this is the first time he can ever remember someone truly talking to Ben without reverting to Klaus for translation. He’s never considered what that must feel like for his brother and it’s a shameful sensation that crawls through his system.

When Vanya starts back up again Ben leans forward, enthralled by the simple act of his sister speaking to him, and only him, like he isn’t a secondary thought, like he’s still a person.

Klaus retreats back into the bathroom before he can ruin this gentle moment, presses into the corners of the room and smothers his tears with a mouth pressed against the cool metal of his dog tags.

 

* * *

 

Klaus has babysitters.

_This is fucking bullshit!_

It’s too early in the morning and Klaus refuses to move from the first comfortable position he’s found all week now that his bones are made of damp and rot.

“Stop crushing my agency under the heel of your oppression.” Diego gapes at him like he’s spoken another language and Klaus has almost gotten away with it…

“Hey! That’s what Delilah said in last season’s finale.” Ben grumbles from the floor like Klaus has done him a great offence.

“He doesn’t know that shitbird!”

“Don’t steal other peoples line asshole.”

Sadly Klaus’ veneer of equanimity fails him as he dissolves into another bickering feud with Six, and Diego’s chuckling when Klaus confirms that he definitely won.

“ _Liar _.”__

Back to the most important point.

“Why can’t Vanya come over?”

“She has practice.”

Klaus huffs and ignores the tremor of his stiff muscles as he crosses his arms.

"Are you going to get dressed today ?" As if Diego isn't staring at his body like he's about to pick Klaus up and fuck him raw against the wall before he leaves. _Which, yes. Please. Stop having morals and fucking do it._

He raises a heavy hand and gestures vaguely. "This is just a warning shot to people that they're not welcome." And he’s wearing boxers, that’s technically dressing.

It’s another thing he’s noticed, there’s an improvement to his vocabulary, his repertoire of retorts has expanded and it’s nothing compared to the quick wit, filthy humour and scathing ripostes he used to pull to the surface with a click of his fingers. But it’s something.

“Don’t blame me then.” Klaus perks up, eyes narrowing before a static laced feeling skitters across his skin and he’s just turned the page of Ben’s book where he’s lying on the floor so it’s not him, which only leaves... “Diego-”

Klaus wishes he could record the hasty retreat that Two made out of the room for future blackmail, he swipes one of his kimonos off of the floor and gives chase, immediately regretting the decision when his suspicions are confirmed.

“ _Oh _,__  what the hell are you doing here?” Klaus slides to a stop in time to see Five set a duffle bag on the table.

“Everyone else was busy.” Diego’s shrugging on his jacket, face not looking nearly as guilty as it should.

“As I have no intention of fornicating with you Klaus, recover a modicum of decency and put on something more suitable.” Five knows how much it bothers him when he starts the fancy articulation spiel, Klaus turns with every intention of exploding at Diego when he realises that the man was gone.

When they finally have sex again he’s going to edge the fucker until he begs, in revenge for leaving him with Five. _You're making plans for the future._

Klaus circles the boy slowly, like one predator analysing another. Which is a shit comparison, Klaus would be a house cat to Five’s panther and it rubs him up in all of the wrong ways, and Five knows it as a benevolent smirk graces his lips as he starts pulling items out of his bag.

There’s no denying that Klaus is a nosy shit, he’s always held his hands up to it, so he watches as Five places his bag of expensive European coffee- that Klaus knows he ordered just to look chic- on the table alongside a carefully wrapped cup. He doesn’t take offence to the disinfectant hand gel that Five pumps generous dollops out before touching anything in Klaus’ apartment, or the way he spreads a blanket out on one of the chairs as if he’ll catch something.

Klaus gets defensive when Five uses a pair of tongs to push Cat away when she goes to investigate the latest intruder to her home, he’s let down when she doesn’t spit and sink her fangs into his hand.

“There’s something peculiar about your cat.”

“She’s got more of a right to be here than you do.”

“I suppose the rabble do tend to stick together.”

Five’s not even been there for a half hour and Klaus already feels a migraine forming, Ben’s conveniently abandoned him and there’s a whole day of this looming ahead

 _Better than being admitted._  

He throws himself onto the couch and picks up the knitting that he and Ben have started up on again. He definitely doesn’t keep Five in his peripheral vision at all times, even when the strain has his brain shuddering and his vision pixelating.

Five confuses Klaus more than he’d like to admit, there’s something sinister about a boy that’s traversed history, a specter that pried through time with bloody fingers until he made it back to his family. Klaus has wondered since that day how many of the spirits haunting his shadows have been delivered there by his brothers hand.

At the same time this _deadly_ assassin is leaning over his chessboard, brows furrowing as he takes liberal gulps from a china teacup.

“Don’t touch that.” Klaus feels more than sees the questioning stare. “I’m still working out how to beat Ben.”

“There isn’t a viable option here.”

Klaus rolls his eyes and resumes his knitting, Five must be feeling the dragging minutes as acutely as Klaus because the boy actually tries to extend their conversation.

"How long has this been going on?" Five wrinkles his nose in confusion. Klaus shrugs, moves the pile of wool to the side and swats Cat away when the bitch tries to tangle herself up in it. "A couple of days." When he gets no reply he peers up to see Five watching his hands intently. “Dolores likes knitting, she used to make me jumpers for the winter.”

“Did you help her?”

Why is he engaging with somebody who may possibly be crazier than he is?

_Because it makes you feel normal._

“No she preferred that we spent some time not living on top of one another, after our fourth anniversary Delores decided I needed to learn some independence and get out from under her feet so she’d retire with her knitting whenever I didn’t get the hint.” Five taps a finger against his cup, amusement and affection dancing across his face at the recollection.

Five is definitely the craziest. _Shame that he’s also the smartest._

Klaus can’t remember if he ever pushed for a conversation from Five that wasn’t steeped with antagonistic intent, and now doesn’t seem the time to do so, not when Klaus still isn’t sure how high up on the crazy spectrum they both were.

Five definitely resides there with him, not that Klaus can ever judge. He just doesn’t know how to approach this walking paradox of a boy, even if his head was screwed on right Klaus doubts he’d know where to begin with the convoluted psychological chaos that Five exists within.

The distraction costs him as Cat takes the opportunity to take a running leap through his knitting and makes a beeline for the bedroom, trailing lines of wool in her wake.

“Shit!”

“Aren’t you going to chastise her?”

“Be my guest, if you can catch the bitch.”

Five’s silence has him glancing over in time to see his disapproving stare. “You do understand that I can manipulate time and space to my will, I’m above such mediocre tasks.”

For the first time that day Klaus feels a trill of excitement as he martials his features into something approaching a casual air. “You only had to say it’s too big of a job.”

Blue eyes narrow and there’s a pause before Klaus is treated to the spectacle that is a horseman of the apocalypse winnowing through his shitty apartment after a spitting ball of fur.

“Today was intolerable.” Much later Klaus whines around a mouthful of Diego’s cooking and ignores the look he receives that’s dangerously similar to Five’s when he mentions Delores.

When Diego isn’t looking Klaus sneaks Cat strips of chicken under the table in payment for the unadulterated joy of seeing Five crashing into the wall when she’d used his shoulder as a springboard.

 

* * *

 

Of all the times for the first spirit to waltz through his apartment it’s when Luther’s taking his turn.

It isn’t like he’s unaware that this could happen, in fact he’s seen them through the window and just the sight has been enough for Klaus to ram himself into the space between his bed and the wall and stay there for hours on end whilst Ben talks nonsensically until he stops suffocating.

But it’s been almost a month of sobriety and some beautifully wonderful event has allowed Klaus to remain isolated within these walls. He wants to suspect Ben’s involvement, but they both know that doesn’t make any sense, so Klaus resolves himself to venturing no further than the front door, its a deterrent that helpfully aids in his sobriety. The thought of leaving this rare sanctum has his heart seizing and his legs liquid and he whimpers pitifully whenever Ben brings it up.

He should have known that number One would bring his bad luck with him.

Klaus was being fastidious in his campaign to make Luther feel unwelcome, he’s galvanised into action before the large man has even arrived, setting about the groundwork to assault him with Klaus’ disdain from the minute he walks through the door.

It’s awkward enough without Klaus’ intervention, from the second Luther had sheepishly ducked inside the room was filled with a thinly veiled animosity, admittedly mostly from himself.

Klaus was already honing this new expression, specially for Diego, that conveyed the retribution he’d suffer through when he returned that evening. If Luther wanted to believe it was also for him then that was a bonus in Klaus’ books.

"Do you know what confuses me?"

"Given your IQ Luther it could be any number of things."

Oh there’s that nostril flare. The one that Diego is usually the sole beneficiary of, Klaus makes a note to point it out to him later, after the whole retribution thing.

Luther, like an oblivious lamb, tries again. “We could do something, go out somewhere?”

Klaus swallows drily and the vitriolic reply slips out. “Can’t do that, what if naughty little Klaus runs away to get high.”

“I can stop you.” Luther’s face twists in guilt even as he’s speaking.

_Excuse, fucking, me._

He knows exactly how Luther could stop him and there’s a twitch of anger sparking up. It doesn’t matter that Diego would probably do the same, that all of their siblings would utilise whatever means necessary to save him from relapsing.

It’s Luther that spoke and it’s Luther that Klaus is furious at.

Klaus would like to invite anybody to say that they wouldn’t shriek if they’d looked over their shoulder intent on verbally destroying their largest sibling and was instead greeted by half a caved in skull, complete with missing eye, and blood coated summer dress that looks like the owners taken fashion tips from Carrie.

And then there’s the fucking hammer.

On a slightly more positive note he’s now aware that his battered body can still move pretty fucking fast.

_Ben! Time to show up, we’ve got a fucked up Casper to deal with._

“Klaus what’s going on?”

Luther’s across the room, to get to him Klaus would need to pass the swaying woman and that’s not happening. His lungs tighten and he can only pant around the lump in his throat, all the functioning parts of his brain switch off as an age old terror batters through his body.

“It’s- there’s- s-s-shit..” If this how stuttering feels Klaus owes Diego an apology as his tongue tangles uselessly behind his teeth and fails to form the words.

“How many?” Luther’s hulking frame straightens to it’s full impressive height and Klaus tries to edge along the wall without drawing attention to himself.

“One.”

“What’re they saying?”

The woman mournfully wails and the sound sends Klaus’ anxious heart racing.

_Ben._

“I d-don’t fucking know.” And he doesn’t want to, plasters his back tighter against the wall.

“Klaus you can work this out, just take a deep breath and try to calm down.” If only he had the mental facilities to scream at Luther about the worst things to say to someone nearly in a fucking crisis.

The spike of anger aids him in snapping out his words again.

“She has a hammer, what sort of creepy bastard carries a hammer around when they’re dead?” His voice cracks and it’s from the stress, not that he’s really freaking out.

“A crazy one?”

“Finally something we agree on- oh, _fuck_ _off_!” The spirit stumbles towards him and Klaus scampers, _in a_   _manly_ _fashion_ , to hide behind Luther’s bulky shoulders and he almost goes nuclear when he spots Cat batting at a loose thread hanging off the bloody dress.

“ _Shit _.__  Luther get my cat.” When the mountain doesn’t move Klaus thumps a fist against his shoulder. “Seriously Luther, go and get my fucking cat!”

“She looks fine?”

“She isn’t _fine_ and- AH- Fuck, spit that out!” Klaus should be putting two and two together about Cat, but right now he’s occupied in watching his feline companion licking blood from a paw she’s swiped over the woman’s leg and it’s absolutely disgusting.

Cat levels Klaus an unimpressed look and finally saunters towards them, he reaches around his Luther ‘shield’ to scoop her up and she affectionately bites his forearm. “Diego’s giving you a bath later you dirty bitch.” Now he’s partially covered and there’s a purring bundle of warmth in his arms, Klaus focuses on steadying his jackhammering heart.

“Can’t you send her away?”

He can. Klaus tries not to shutter his eyes as he waves a hand like a genie at the woman and mutters a convincing ‘ _shoo’._ Unsurprisingly it doesn’t work.

“Maybe you need to talk with her?”

He needs to calm the fuck down, there’s no control in his shaking fingers. Klaus can do this. Ben’s walked through the process with him countless times, and without Klaus’ say so the spirit can’t even touch him.

He’s never done this alone.

_Ben, please, I need you._

There’s been so few occasions that he’s been unable to summon his brother, the connection between each time is that Klaus has descended into the debilitating crush of anxiety. Which is fucking ironic because without Ben it only gets worse.

“You can do this Klaus.”

Cat shuffles up onto his shoulder and he uses her steady presence to force himself out from behind Luther, nails cutting into his palms as he hovers nervously in front of the woman.

“Hi.”

Oh fucking hell, her right eye looks like it’s going to pop out as well. Klaus takes a fortifying breath as the woman starts rambling again and, between attempting not to flinch as she waves the hammer at him, Klaus tries to listen 

But he can’t draw in enough air, not properly and it’s making his head pound. _Where’s Ben?_  Klaus really _needs_ his brother.

A heavy hand rests on his free shoulder and Klaus doesn’t care who it belongs to as he grounds himself around the reassuring weight.

“I can’t work it out.” He’s shaking and it’s so fucking stupid because he knows it, he can recite verbs and nouns in nearly every language in the world. She’s just speaking too fast, and he’s panicking too much, and there’s so much fucking blood, and she’s crying out of that one good eye and he feels so unbelievably _sorry_ for her.

“Sound out the words to me.” Klaus’ eyes bug as he glimpses up and Luther’s calm visage actually helps. He recalls a long forgotten afternoon where he’d been hunched over his desk, scribbling nonsense, and Luther, the prodigal wannabe stood in front of them, skipping through languages like a trained monkey at their fathers discretion. Like all of the things Reginald decreed, Luther threw himself into it with a zealots obsession, and although they could all converse comfortably in a variety of tongues, Luther practised his pronunciation’s and inflections until they might as well have been his first language.

Klaus likes hating Luther, in channelling his frustrations out on One and blaming him for all of the things that went wrong with their family. But there’s no one else around and Klaus can’t do this alone, so he stutters and fumbles around words that feel familiar and unknown.

He doesn’t regret the decision when Luther’s graces him with a ridiculously excited smile. “It’s Russian.”

Vanya’s going to smack him when she hears. However Klaus can suddenly work with this, like Luther’s announcement is some magical fucking key unlocking his brain, and he starts to pick up the words until he’s suddenly present, and he’s listening.

For a moment he wishes that he wasn’t, her story one dripping in despair, of cruel men and a world that never cared as she defended herself to the very last breath, and Klaus vows to remember her because nobody should be forgotten.

He’s exhausted when she thanks him, leaves with a smile no less beautiful for the blood coating it.

“That was really good Klaus.”

He slumps back against the kitchen cabinet and tries his best to project apathy even as his heart races and for some god damn reason he wants to giggle like he used to before life got so fucking complicated.

Klaus can’t even find it in himself to pull off all of the moon related pranks he’d prepared for the day. It just doesn’t seem fun anymore.

“I’m serious, you did a great job.” Luther looks absurd as he sinks to the floor, taking up too much room and Klaus doesn’t push him away as they sit side by side.

“Alright captain, settle down.” _Damn it._  He’s can’t even manage to sound as mocking as he might want to.

“What have I missed?” Ben’s suddenly there, leaning over their chess board.

_“Where the fuck have you been?!”_

 

* * *

 

This existence is a temporary reprieve, Klaus is more than aware of it, Diego will stay out of obligation until Klaus finally finds the right combination of words, or he’ll show how desperately pathetic he is and then Two will leave. 

 ~~Klaus is fine with this~~.

The start is inevitable, begins when Klaus is trapped between nightmares, shivering though the horrors flashing before him as everyone falls. Dave’s life leaking out in unsteady pulses. Ben and Vanya scream for him to do something as they writhe in agony. Luther shielding Allison from the worst of it and those mighty shoulders break apart from the effort as hell rains down on him.

Five’s okay though, Klaus stumbles through this realm of spirits and death until he can reach out and touch his brother. Stopped by a howl of anguish that spears through his soul and he’s collapsing back in horror as Five rocks Delores’ ruined body in his lap.

There’s one person left and he can’t bear it, Klaus can’t cope if he sees _him_ here in this destruction.

He's shaking, hard, head cracking back and forth with the motion of it and there’s a wrenching sensation as Klaus is snapped into a room that’s empty. Except for the body he’s clinging to with a grip that he dares the gods to break. He’s paralysed by fear, can’t let go of Diego’s arms, as if one motion would have reality slip away and he’ll be falling back into that merciless void.

He’s held in an embrace that’s bruising and there’s a wave of glittering black that almost crushes him, rises and falls, wants to devour all that’s left of Klaus. His name is being uttered, over and over again and he focuses on that husky voice, clings to it like a lifeline.

Like all nightmares they eventually relinquish their grip over him.

Diego’s still there, holding Klaus like he’s the most precious thing in the world and he’s exposed, vulnerable, desperately open in the face of such kindness.

His heart fractures when he hears words that are meant to be hidden in the press of lips to his head. He flinches. Diego stills.

Klaus needs distance before he says something he’ll regret, something hasty, something that’s a lie. _Or not._

But he’s selfish. He wants to feel safe and he’s good with empty words, it was a talent he used to pride himself on. Diego doesn’t deserve those. Words with thoughts and emotions that carry weight, that never quite manage to slip through, are the hardest. He can’t offer those either.

Klaus says nothing. He’s selfish and cruel and takes all of the comfort Two offers without giving anything in return.

For the first time since this thing began Diego stays the night in his bed, Klaus listens to the solid reassuring beat of his heart and tries to save it’s pattern away for the time when Diego’s gone.

 

* * *

 

The mornings uncomfortable. 

Entirely Klaus’ fault and he can’t fix it.

He’s a filthy coward that pretends he’s asleep. Diego’s a filthy coward for not calling him out on his lie.

He curls lower in the bed as footsteps signal Allison’s arrival and buries a part of him that’s hurt Diego didn’t say goodbye.

“Morning Klaus.” Blinds are drawn with too much gusto and the light frazzles him for a moment as he props himself up to snap at her. He ignores how good she looks, Allison never fails him on that count, practically ethereal in the morning sun.

“Sorry I haven’t been able to come, I’ve been working with a lawyer…” Allison hesitates and Klaus bristles as she stares at his face.

“What?”

“Nothing… Nothing at all.” His eyes narrow and she continues after a pause. “It’s just, you look different without, you know. Oh god, I don’t mean it in a bad way.” It takes him a long second to work out what she’s implying.

It’s another one of those moments where he isn’t sure whether there’s a justification in becoming agitated or throwing his head under the covers to hide in shame.

But this is Allison, his sister who’s never shied away from him and he feels an indentation as she sits down.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your going to need a lot more time, or be a lot more fucking specific?”

“Don’t be a dick.”

His mouth quirks and he finally shifts over, makes room for her to stretch out next to him. A chorus of giggling from the television floats through the open doorway. Diego had time to set Ben’s show up but not to say goodbye to Klaus.

Klaus bitterly switches the tv off from here, tosses the remote to the floor and ignores the outraged yell of his brother as he appears at the end of the bed.

“You really are a dick Klaus.”

All of his fingers curl into his palm except for the middle one.

Allison draws his attention with a quiet sigh. “You look nice without all of the makeup, and with it, it’s just that I haven’t seen you like this since we were kids.”

“I don’t like it.” He confesses.

“If you’ve run out we could go shopping?”

Once Klaus would have snatched that offer up, done anything for Allison to gift him her attention.

Now he offers up another truth, “I miss… looking like me. I can’t make it happen.” _Or you have a break down._

“Do you want me to try?”

He does. Very much so.

She reads his shrug for what it is and then Klaus is sitting on the floor of his bedroom, transported back to his teenage years where like now Allison’s glowing as she masterfully transforms him into something beautiful.

There’s her hand she occasionally scratches through his hair, the only gentle motion he could ever stomach during those years of _training_. Allison has always been this luminous fixture in their lives, composed of starlight that he’d excitedly trailed behind, happy to be in the shadows so long as he was near her. Over the years many things have changed between them, of this Klaus is pleasantly surprised he still likes.

She routes around in his wardrobe, frowning to herself as she pulls clothes out and he can see the way her mind organises them into something perfect. “This is the one.”

He glances over as she holds up her old skirt, one that Klaus can remember swirling in front of her vanity mirror, bending over to see it from all the angles. He dresses now on auto pilot, let’s her fiddle and Ben’s watching him with the same sweet smile that he gave Vanya.

“Perfect, come and have a look.”

She’s pushing him too hard, he’s not ready for this, what if he still doesn’t look like himself.

Allison guides him into position and stands back, waiting with her hands clasped, nervous energy humming as Klaus inhales before turning around.

Shit. 

_There he is._

Klaus cries.

Allison softly hums as he leaves smears of black on her expensive dress.

Once he’s finally calmed down she tuts and wipes his cheeks clean, touching up the parts that he’s ruined.

“I found you Four” her fingers gently tap his face and he’s not smiling or crying or sullen, Klaus feels inexplicably peaceful. “You can’t fool me with those silly expressions, I know your real face brother. I- we always will.”

Klaus spirals, but not in the way that leads him down, her words stirring something painfully fragile in his chest. Since that night, longer if he’s honest, he’s felt halved, erased from the world, forgotten behind the drugs, and there’s a fear- one he entertains on the darkest of nights- that he’ll disappear altogether. Corrupted by his own hand until the last genuine piece of _Klaus_ leaves his body.

But there’s Allison promising him that he won’t vanish, she’ll find him again if he fades. _They all will._

She takes his hand and Ben places his so close that there’s no space between them but a phantom warmth that Klaus savours, and they sit together for far too long because none of them want to be the first to move.

Allison rummages for her phone and shows him pictures of Claire, scripts for movies they want her in and then there’s pictures of their family. Klaus lets his head drop onto her shoulder as she swipes through the secret snapshots that she’d taken when _Reginald_ wasn’t looking.

“I can’t believe you kept all of these.”

“They’ve been saved so many times now, I learnt the hard way to make backups after dropping my phone in the bath the first time.”

Klaus is transfixed as Allison offers small tidbits with each picture.

‘Teaching Pogo what a selfie is’.

 Another ‘Luther when Five first learnt how to teleport above his head to kamikaze on him’.

And another ‘Ben’s face when we managed to convince him he was invisible for the day’.

“I still feel bad about that one.” Allison sighs.

“I wouldn’t, I put vinegar in all of her perfume bottles.”

Klaus is saved the decision of whether he should share Ben’s confession or not by a scuffling sound that he doesn’t look towards because he knows precisely who’s there. _And you’re a coward._

Unfortunately no ones informed Allison of this and Klaus can’t do anything to stop her as she waves Diego over. “We’re just going through memory lane, back when everyone was so sweet and cute.”

“I can’t ever imagine Five being cute.”

Then Diego’s in front of them and Klaus isn’t avoiding looking up, he’s simply admiring his boots. There’s a big difference.

When nobody speaks he steels himself, head spinning when he meets Diego’s flushed face, and _fuck_ , Klaus is on fire 

Allison knows her cue, he barely notices as she gathers her things and slinks out through the door, Ben trails behind as if he’s seeing her out.

_Say you're sorry._

“You look g-great.” The tinge of colour in his cheeks has Klaus squirming as he pushes to his feet, teeth gritting against his own rising flush and he’s delighted, not because Diego's struggling, never about that, but the stammer is evidence that Two is just as affected as Four. That he doesn’t hate Klaus yet.

Dark eyes gaze over him with such an intensity that Klaus can’t stand it, shivers as Diego reaches out and runs a hand along his side.

 _Sorry_.

Something pulls tense and taut inside of Klaus, he’s tired, and he’s stressed, and if he doesn’t kiss Two now then he might just fucking lose it. He’s surging forward at the same time Diego’s hands bury in his hair and Klaus does what he’s been wanting to do since he woke up, takes that smirking lip between his teeth and bites down. _Hard _.__

The moan Diego gives him makes Klaus burn.

_Just say it you filthy coward._

“I’m sorry.” He breaths it between their lips, feels Diego’s response in the flex of his fingers as he falls back onto the bed and pulls Klaus with him. As he peppers hot, open-mouthed kisses down Klaus’ neck before he’s even seated on his lap, it’s a tangle of limbs as Klaus grinds down, his arousal making itself known as his skirt hitches up.

“You look so pretty.”

_Klaus is forgiven._

Diego’s thumb rubs lazy circles into the curve of his hip and Klaus wants those clever fingers to move somewhere else, can’t resist grabbing to show him where. Klaus whimpers when Diego’s hands easily twist them behind his back, capturing both wrists in one hand and holding him captive with a wicked smile.

 _Shit, he’s missed this._  

He rolls his hips just so he can hear Diego’s stuttered groan, feel as he bucks to meet Klaus, jeans rough against his bare skin, and the friction has his head clouding over perfectly as Diego’s free hand cups his neck and pulls him in for another kiss. He strains against the grip holding his wrists, wants to bury them in Two’s hair, but he forgets just how hard the man works out, how strong he really is, because he can’t shift an inch and it makes Klaus so fucking hard.

“Well this is awkward.” Ben pipes up in his ear just as Diego’s hand _finally_ slides along the seam of his skirt.

Klaus almost crashes into the wall from the force of his jump.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“I was bored and somebody turned my show off.” Six almost skips as he prances out of the room, “Karma!”

Klaus is going to murder him.

“What’re you doing?” Diego asks as he helps Klaus up, doesn’t stop him as glowing hands scrabble for the blade Klaus knows is tucked in one of those holsters. He draws it and stalks out of the bedroom, eyeing up Ben’s smug face as he perches against the table.

“I’m summoning Ben so I can stab him properly.”

It turns out that Klaus, even if he ever did try to bring his brother into a tangible form, cannot throw for shit. 

Klaus will forever be haunted by his brothers synchronised laughter as he tugs with all of his strength at the blade impaled in a kitchen cabinet before Diego takes pity and comes to his rescue.

_He prays for this to never change._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It killed me to be nice to Luther but in this fic he gets to be an idiot, but not that stupid he inadvertently sets off the apocalypse level of idiot :)


	3. Chapter 3

Klaus never could understand those dear souls that poured their hearts onto paper, penned whopping great big entries into diaries that spilt their hopes and dreams. In reality they’d never be that exciting for anyone to read, unless you were some politicians mistress or his sister. But it always cheered him up to imagine the sort of things he would jot down of significance.

_Dear diary,_

_Today I tried to make pancakes with my deceased brother, learnt that giving stellar handjobs doesn’t mean you have the sort of wrist action that flips the fucking batter properly. Cat enjoyed our feeble offerings off of the floor._

Or, yesterdays entry:

_Dear diary,_

_Woke up to the worst cravings of my life, would have blown every dealer in the city for pills. Sucked Diego off instead. Rudely interrupted by asshole brother numero Uno and some top secret shit, so no sex. Again._

_And still no pills._

Overall he can’t imagine it being as sensationalist as Vanya’s offerings, a dash more tawdry perhaps, but not what people would sit in book groups or on public transport reading.

Today though Klaus does know exactly what he would write about, with a shaky hand maybe because the universe has apparently decided that he needs to be edged every single fucking time he gets near Diego’s dick.

_Dear diary,_

_This morning I got the confirmation letter about my inheritance, r.e. the whole sobriety stipulation. Daddy’s little trick to try and screw me over with one last laugh. Well you sadistic prick, who’s laughing now!_

It’s a natural high he’s going to forever associate with the proud look on Diego’s face when Klaus waved the sheet of paper in front of him, an intoxicating mix that he stores away safely to analyse in privacy.

Vanya’s ecstatic when she comes in to spend the afternoon with him, makes a big deal out of reading through each line and checking every single number on the toxicology results until he’s snatching it out of her hand and announcing that they deserve a treat on him.

It’s not that Klaus was running out of money beforehand, he’s hoarded plenty over the last few months, though their fathers prized candelabras were starting to look appealing if it was left much longer. If one could stomach the whole going back to the childhood torture mansion, something he’s avoided fastidiously since the non-pocalyspe situation.

But taking his sister out for coffee and pancakes- that haven’t landed on the floor- is a whole new level of normality, one that Klaus embraces as he watches Vanya laughing exuberantly from the jokes he’s relaying for Ben.

In fact he sets a mission to find something for all of his siblings, gratitude shown through material items because Klaus hasn’t got the emotional maturity to deal with affectionate platitudes.

Allison’s is a lucky find, the calendar of her best photo shoots has Klaus cackling as he and Ben plan what they’re going to scrawl inside before handing it over. Luther is simple and Vanya tries to pretend she’s scandalised as he’s paying for the Kama Sutra book which Klaus, hand on heart, swears is from the kindest of intentions. Five gets the cheapest, nastiest bag of coffee that Klaus can find, ponders whether it’s poor taste to mix cyanide in with the beans. Klaus vows to buy Vanya something special when he next goes out without her.

“What about me?” Ben pouts.

So Klaus ends up in the music store just so they can buy a bunch of vinyl records while Vanya takes a call, which yes he’s the snobby shit that prefers the way they sound. Sue him.

“Ask the manager if they have any.” Ben whines when Klaus refuses to acknowledge his request.

“I’m not fucking doing it.”

Klaus glowers the best he can around the growing stack of records in his hands. “You go and ask him.” He glances towards the store front at the pompous looking man.

“Don’t be petty Klaus, it ages you.”

“They butchered some of my favourite songs, fuck ‘em!”

“They’re not automatically bad because you don’t like the show.” Ben shudders and glitches as another person walks through him in the process of nervously skirting around Klaus and it would be a funny sight if his brother didn’t have a fixation on something that Klaus has no fucking intention of approving.

“Guess who’s alive and not wasting money on pure trash.”

“Well guess who’s going to cock block you for eternity.” Klaus’ molars grind together as he recalls precisely what his brothers referring to and he’s pretty fucking close to finding Ben’s record just so he can snap it in half in front of him.

“Can I help you sir?” This is what he didn’t want, the sir already sets him on edge and the manager looks unimpressed as he approaches them, Klaus squints at his name tag and bites back a laugh, _Cyril_ , what sort of old fashioned name was that. _Not that you can talk._  Ben has no such qualms about his behaviour as he snickers over Klaus’ shoulder.

“Nope all good here, just browsing your fine selection of music.” _Bit of an overkill._

_“Ask. Him.”_

Klaus accidentally shifts an elbow back so it slides right through his brothers stomach and tries not to groan at the dramatic scream Ben lets off right in his ear.

Fine.

“Actually, I don’t suppose you guys sell TV soundtracks?”

“We do sir-” _Shut the fuck up asshole!_  Something cold knots in his stomach. _Breath._ “- is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

Klaus mumbles and when Cyril looks at him questioningly he tries again, “Do you have anything by… Glee.”

Even Cyril looks disgusted by his request and Klaus minutely warms to the man. Ben on the other hand is less than amused, “You’re both music snobs! What gives him the right to shit on my parade!”

“ _Will you shut up!”_ He hisses over his shoulder

“Excuse me sir?”

“No worries, you’re excused.” Okay that ones all on him, Klaus’ sobriety has been bringing out his inner bitch again and apparently it’s decided now’s the time to shine.

“I beg your pardon.” Cyril stares down his nose at Klaus and it’s an impressive feat considering the man’s about 4 inches shorter than him. When he doesn’t answer Cyril actually tries to draw himself up higher and Klaus would apologise until, “Has no one ever told you it’s rude to ignore your elders young man.”

_What happened to sir?_

“Don’t get us kicked out.” Ben grouches, waiting for the inevitable.

Klaus gets them kicked out.

“All I did-” He passionately defends himself to Vanya as they join her out on the street “- was tell him I was waiting for him to beg. It’s not that bad.”

“Then you threatened to have his store haunted.” Ben adds unhelpfully.

“It’s not a threat if I can do it.”

“I left you guys alone for 10 minutes and you still manage to cause trouble.” Vanya smiles fondly at Ben’s shoulder.

“I’m just an innocent bystander in all of this, how low can you fall to blame a dead man.” Ben’s pantomime perfect as he over exaggeratedly clutches his chest.

Klaus refuses to re-enact his theatrics as they start the walk back to his apartment, the records still in his hands, the manager either didn’t notice them as he flounced out, or his manic rambling deterred anyone from trying to stop them, and he’s not a decent enough person to take them back in.

It doesn’t take long before he manages to collect an entourage, Klaus has to begrudgingly thank Luther for his newly found tolerance for the spirits meandering behind them. Which is damn lucky considering they’ve been coming in droves recently and aside from the times Ben is with him Klaus has started to live the hermit lifestyle in his apartment, the only place he’s managing to maintain a constant control over.

“Maybe they can feel your frustration?” Ben keeps joking, and Klaus keeps throwing kitchen utensils at him in response.

But he’s pretty sure that it’s something far more insidious.

There’s been something loose and icy in his gut for weeks now and Klaus doesn’t know what to do about it, nothing eases the fracturing sensation when he tries to eradicate it. He feels brittle, like a sheet of thin ice atop a coursing river, and it only gets worse as the days slip by, a build up that Klaus has an insistent worrying niggle over. A growing fear that it won’t ever let up.

 

* * *

 

Vanya’s news come via a text when Klaus’ maudlin mood is just starting to fuck with his head.

He’s sprawled on the floor of his shower, bathroom door shut and trying not to think about how worried Diego’s been all morning so calling her seems like the perfect distraction. “So let me get this straight.”

“There’s nothing straight about-”

“Tacky jokes are my thing, don’t be lazy.” Her giggle is fucking musical and Klaus shifts himself into a sitting position. “How big of a deal is this?”

“Pretty big.”

“Like Luther’s massive fucking shoulders big or…”

“Maybe bigger.”

“Shit.” He whistles and puts the phone on speaker to stop Ben from complaining. “The only solo. That’s incredible V.”

“Allison wants to go out and celebrate, she’s trying to find somewhere we can sneak Five in without getting caught.”

All of his growing excitement dwindles, voice flat despite his best effort. “Sounds like you’ll have a great time.

“Oh. Klaus I didn’t think-”

“I get it, don’t worry.”

“But it won’t be any fun without you.” Vanya sounds genuinely mournful and Klaus has his stupidest idea in a while.

_Diego’s not going to be happy._

“If you want me there then I’ll come.”

Ben remains silent but he’s channelling his most disapproving expression, Klaus refrains from informing him the similarities to dad’s.

“Of course I- Do you think that you can… cope?”

He doesn’t want to make a celebration for Vanya about his issues so he leaves it up to her, this isn’t to be a night revolving around him and it’s entirely understandable if she doesn’t trust him. He doesn’t trust himself most of the time.

“Yeah, but it’s up to you, Ben’s got a shit ton of boxsets for us to catch up on so don’t feel bad about it.”

It takes his breath away when she doesn’t even pause. “How can it be a party if you’re not there.”

_Diego’s going to kill him._

 

* * *

 

Surprisingly Klaus is still alive, and very much discombobulated by Diego’s acquiescence when they talk, he almost wishes there was more of a resistance, a challenge for him to overcome, instead all he gets is a quiet, “I can’t keep telling you what to do.”

It bothers him for days until he finally realises that Diego is resigned to the idea that Klaus may end up spiralling straight back into his old habits with the barest of temptations. The revelation incites a furious denial and the bitterest acknowledgement, because he’s done just that, dozens of times now.

But this time is different. He’s different, and for the first time Klaus wants nothing more than to prove himself a worthy recipient of all of his family’s support. Which is a nauseating concept but one that fills a chunk of that emptiness in his chest.

Klaus makes a show of Allison’s message about times and the date, despite the complete lack of contest from Two. All it ends up doing is fortifying Klaus’ newly found resolve. He’s going to resist just for once in his god damn life, and if with the slightest help of a miracle he pulls this off perfectly then it’s the sort of present he can give to Diego, proof that Klaus is trying, he’s slowly getting there.

He’s going to be a paragon of sobriety and self control.

And if he fails… Klaus will cross that bridge when he comes to it.

So it’s how he ends up in a car doing his damned best to ignore the man driving before he transforms into one of those fainting heroines from Allison’s bodice ripping, period- _smut _-__  novels she used to hide under her bed.

Klaus’ grown immune to the leather and harness that Diego likes to pretend is a vigilante uniform, after so many years it’s hard not to let the image become an afterthought, one he can draw on for emergency nights alone, but never has him self combusting over. This however is bullshit.

_Paragon. Sobriety. Self Control._

Diego did __not__ need to choose tonight of all nights to wear something that makes his head fog over, Klaus only needed one look at the fitted black button down and he was screwed. It’s cliché and overrated and every time the bastard goes to change the gear, because of course he has a stick shift, Klaus inhales the slightest bit too sharply at the material rustling.

He wants to see watch Diego’s muscled arms as they launch blades through the air.

He __wants__ to peel that fucking shirt off with his teeth.

_Paragon! Sobriety! Self Control!_

Ben finds the whole thing hysterical, his laughter chasing after Klaus as he bolts out of the vehicle when they finally stop a street down. Though he’s partially distracted by Allison’s choice, the bar has the sort of gaudy glow to it with lighting that’s purposefully muted, colours fading into one another which just makes Klaus feel like he’s back in the seventies. There’s an actual dance floor and the lazy sort of movements people do when they’re too drunk to realise that they can’t dance and they do it anyway because it makes them happy. It’s the type of establishment Klaus used to frequent, not one he would associate with his glitzy star of a sister.

_Why are they in such a dump?_

The answer comes as he and Diego find their siblings tucked away behind pillars tackily decorated in pulsating lights, and what a chaotic bunch they are, both of his sisters are beguiling in very separate ways, Luther looks like he’s the lead for a budget Hulk porn and Five’s already got a pitcher of something vividly pink and orange, chasing down a glass as he talks to Vanya.

_Where else would you hide such a ragtag group._

Klaus is equal parts jealous of the undoubtedly killer levels of alcohol in the perky drink and impressed that Five’s still standing with how quickly he’s necking the shit down. He may also be trying very hard not to roll on the floor laughing at his smaller brothers scowling face peering out of the oversized hooded jacket that Allison no doubt forced him to wear.

Vanya looks more delighted than the rest of the wary bunch when he goes to greet her, and she’s the only reason he truly wanted to come so he's fine with that. Despite that he doesn’t expect arms to fling around his waist, and it takes a glance at the open bottle of wine to make sense, Seven has always been a terrible lightweight.

They’ve been busy, he notes as everyone does that whole ‘so jolly good to see you’ crap like they’re complete strangers. There’s drinks carefully selected out on display, no doubt Allison managed to arrange everything so there’s no need for the family junkie to go to the bar, the bottled water almost has him cracking up, it’s feeble and funny and kinda sweet. But there’s one flaw in her planning and Ben makes his distaste clear. “How _exclusionary_.”

Of course it’s hard explaining the need to buy a spirit a drink and it’s even harder not to feel like a toddler when he can feel all of their eyes on his back as he slips through people on his way to the bar. Which is their mistake, because if they think he can’t slip something down without them noticing then his siblings are damn naïve fools. _Not that you're going to do anything._

Although he can’t say there’s not a drilling pressure behind his temples as Ben surveys a laminated mocktail menu, _‘Gotta be part of team sober’._ It’s not cheating if he joins in, there won’t be a sliver of alcohol in them and yet Klaus still doesn’t like the idea of consuming a drink that’s designed to emulate the real thing. He’s trying to do this properly, and if he has to hit the bottom of the figurative barrel and drink cordial then he’ll do it. Ben has no such reservations as he giddily reads through the ingredients of each beverage, too distracted to comment when a rowdy bunch of customers walk through him as he settles on something extortionately priced.

Thankfully nobody remarks when Klaus places an extravagantly decorated glass and pulls a spare stool up next to it.

“They’re probably waiting for you wring the beer mats out for a drink.”

“Screw you.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“Oh, drop dead.”

“Ships already sailed.”

“Mind if I join you?”

Klaus barely pays Ben any attention when Allison sits down beside him, he’s already figured that everyone would fall back onto old habits, awkwardly floating between each other until enough alcohols been consumed that social inhibition fucks off out the window. Though normally Luther and Diego would end up fighting and Klaus would take bets on the winners with Five.

If the night ended like that then Klaus might end up having a good time.

All of this in comparison is dreadfully civil, Five’s setting up a game of pool to fleece Luther and the fools falling for it. Klaus, if he were a better man, might warn One, however the sight of Five stretching up on his toes to line up shots is too amusing to mess with.

It’s not entertaining for anyone else after the first few times that Five annihilates Luther. He’s a gloating little bastard Klaus notes as he watches Diego take a turn and spectacularly fail, considering his affinity with those blades Klaus is mildly curious as to how he barely pots a single ball, even the ones that Five leaves clear for him.

Bizarrely Klaus can’t motivate himself into joining them, content watching Vanya as she teeters past tipsy and slam dunks through intoxication at a rapid pace, not that he wants the liquor surprisingly but she looks… free. All of her rigidity melting away to leave this delicately beautiful woman, even as she jostles Five’s elbow, screwing up an easy shot as he wobbles precariously. Klaus’ leaning forward, anticipating one of Five’s infamous outbursts. He’s immensely let down as the boy steadies Vanya with a shy smile, and the pause between them has Klaus glad for a distraction when Luther’s heft comes to rest beside Allison.

“I can’t believe that he’s so good.”

Allison tuts and Klaus tries not to roll his eyes at her blatant adoration. “Don’t you play with him at the mansion, what’s so different now?”

“We put money down?”

“No sweetie, what else?”

Klaus can’t help but pipe in because if they wait for Luther to get it then they’ll be there all night. “He’s showing off.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because there’s somebody watching.”

Luther finally snags it. “Wait- So does he like- Does Vanya like him?”

Klaus lets Allison answer because honestly he doesn’t have a clue outside of the things he can observe from his fish-bowl of a life.

“She used to, he was the only one that was kind to her.” They all wince at the reminder. “I know she wouldn’t do anything, not with his age.”

“Are any of us not messed up?” Luther says.

“Nope, we’re all irrevocably fucked big guy, I bet dad’s shitting in his grave right now.” Klaus pats his arm in the warmest gesture they’ve exchanged in years.

From Luther’s goofy grin Klaus would have thought he’d given him that fucking moon of his. Were they all that sensitive these days that the lightest of touches would make them emotional wrecks?

“Someone’s holding up better than we all expected.” Vanya plops down next to him and Ben grumbles as he moves around the table.

“I knew I could hear somebody talking about me the other day, just thought it was Ben writing another soliloquy about how fabulous my hair is.”

It’s a terrible line but she still rewards him with a flushed smile and then somehow everyone’s talking at once, a messy jumble of voices that he sinks into, and the only thing that changes is Allison swapping out to challenge Five’s undefeated streak.

When Diego flops down into her vacant seat Klaus has to restrain the urge to lean closer, it’s his own fault, he’s the one that made the big deal about acting independently tonight, a mistake he’s starting to regret now his bones grow stiff. If he analyses it properly then he knows there’s a textbook description somewhere detailing over-exertion and all of that joyful shit, Klaus pulls inwards, reducing all of his interactions until he’s running on minimum to try and preserve some energy.

Allison’s an easy distraction, and she’s a good player, enough that Five stops messing about, but then she fails just like the others, he’s not paying that much attention towards the end, brain starting to constrict and it gets harder not to watch Vanya’s half full glass, dangling precariously between her loose fingers.

“Klaus.”

It’s vexing because he’s sure if he could put the words together and inform Diego of his train of thought the man would know what to do, he’s always does. Klaus really should leave before he does something stupid like grab the glass out of Vanya’s hand and drain it in one fell swoop.

He needs to leave before he ruins her night because his heads too tight and there’s something cold biting down in his chest that’s making it hard to breath properly.

_“Klaus.”_

He looks up to meet Five’s unimpressed gaze.

“I was saying when your degenerate self rudely stopped listening, are you going to provide me some entertainment before you fail like I predicted?”

Klaus can’t pinpoint exactly why his focus snaps down with an iron grip on Five, he’s never taken offence to his brothers insults before, and in all fairness to Five some of them have been _excellent _.__ But this time it rubs him up the wrong way as Diego flinches beside him, words have been said behind closed doors and it clearly bothers Two.

_They’ve all been talking about you._

Klaus doesn’t know why he suddenly wants to thrash Five at his own game.

It could be the sad look Luther ducks his head to hide, or Allison’s awkward fumbling as she coughs, or even Five’s obnoxious smirk as he lines the balls up in the rack. Whatever the reason Klaus is snatching the other stick from Allison’s nervous grip and striding up to the table.

With hindsight he’ll know it’s the snide little comments Five likes to drop on him. That he’s so confident with Delores as he talks to her with love and sarcasm and exasperation and joy, and Klaus will _never_ get to understand the complexities of being in a love spanning the decades with the same person. _Even with a god damn mannequin._

That Five looks at Klaus with those intelligent eyes and the boy can see through to the decay still at the centre of his being, and there’s nothing that Klaus can do to stop him.

He wants to destroy his brother to win the upper hand for one small fucking moment.

It’s rather dramatic that everyone stands up to watch, there’s acute pressure building from their stares, his fingers are twitching again and that’s going to make this a hell of a lot harder.

Five breaks and scowls when nothing goes in, Klaus is carefully surveying his options when the bitter shit comments to Luther “It’s fine, he’s terrible at scoring when it matters.”

Diego hisses from behind them but Klaus isn’t angry about the sloppy reference, he’s heard much worse and it’s a pitiful insult compared to the usual offerings. Then he sees the small quirk to Five’s mouth as he deliberately glances towards Diego, the real target of his slight and Klaus isn’t fucking having it.

“Numbers.”

“Klaus what are you-”

Five cuts Allison off because he’s not stupid. “1, _2_ , 8, 9, 11, 14, 15. Any order. No other rules.”

_Gracious._

They’re all tucked away at nasty angles that he’ll have to actually make an effort to win, but Klaus’ really _pissed_ off and that’s always been a magnificent motivator.

He makes a show of lining up, thinking for a split moment that a coincidental bonus for doing this is the fact that his tight jeans are going to hug his ass perfectly as he gets to bend over the table in front of a certain person.

Vanya’s supportive cheer warms his spine as he sinks the first ball, crosses around the table and bounces the cue ball over another and it slams into the pair he wanted, ricocheting and delivering them smoothly into opposite pockets. His fingers steady as he looks through the options, there’s a relatively easy route to take, one that’ll have him sweeping through the game with ease. But it’s boring. No challenge.

But then he’s already met the challenge, he’s here in a bar, sober as a judge, making his sister laugh at her own celebration, and Klaus isn’t losing it. Vanya who’s been there as he hurled his guts up, fixed heated compresses whilst he shivers and bought him the most delicious sugar laden drinks when he’s felt defunct deserves the best he can give her.

So Klaus puts on a  _real_ show, has Vanya choosing the order he aims, and he feels her anxious gasps at the near misses, her body jumping with excitement as he pots a particularly difficult bugger. Then because he can’t resist his inner bitch resurfacing he holds Fives glare with a slick grin when he sends the 9-ball home through a maze of colours.

Klaus almost face plants the table as Vanya slings herself against his back, catching his balance with a well placed palm while she sings his praises. He’s trying to steady them both as she drunkenly congratulates him, turning to wrap his arm around her shoulder properly and he watches in disbelief as Luther takes a wad of bills from Alison with a smirk that he’s never seen on the man. Luther bet on him, against Allison of all people. He actually believed in Klaus.

Oh god he hopes One doesn’t expect them to be friends at the end of all this.

It’s a mistake to look at Diego when they’re in a public space, when his dark gaze sears Klaus’ skin in a hot, possessive brand that has him choking for air and he’s having to remember that he’s got his god damn sister propped against his shoulder. That it’s not civilised to drop to his knees and beg Diego to fuck him in the middle of a dingy bar.

He turns towards Five, to give him something to take his mind out of the gutter it seems intent on rolling around in. It’s a good choice because he’s just in time to see Five hiding a victorious grin beneath the hood he’s drawn higher over his face and Klaus realises that the little shit has managed to play him, read the room and Klaus better than anyone else in the moment and implemented the perfect distraction before he descended into panic.

Five was paying attention to him.

Doesn’t matter if he cares about Klaus or he was doing it to make sure Vanya’s celebration wasn’t tarnished, the end result was the same either way, and Klaus owes him. For helping him have a night that hasn’t been tainted by his weakness, for playing the part of a sulking teenager when everyone starts to tease him about it.

For letting Klaus play the good guy for once.

 

* * *

 

Klaus’ invigorated, buzzing with his own success and the control he’s asserted over his errant body- with a little help. It’s the first time he’s ever felt like there was a part of himself that doesn’t need schooling and bending into a shape that’s acceptable.

Like just this once he’s worthy of the burning gaze that’s been pinned to his back since they left the bar.

Klaus _wants_ this, he wants to continue this natural high and share it with someone because nothing should feel as good as he does now without containing a shit load of cocaine.

Diego follows a half step behind him, and Klaus is smirking because he knows what’s going to happen the second they walk through the door, he draws out the time rooting for his keys, makes a show of missing the lock and there’s a fucking _growl_  right by his ear that has his head spinning.

Klaus doesn’t know who starts the kisses, but he’s the one gripping Diego’s shirt and slamming him into the back of the closed door, and it’s Klaus who can’t keep his hands still. Taking Diego’s jaw so he can draw out heated sighs with the curl of his tongue, brushing down his neck and the curve of his shoulders, sliding under the back of that _fucking_  shirt and digging into firm muscle, and there’s a gasping moan between them that Klaus hasn’t a clue who uttered it but he _wants_ more of those.

Diego attacks as Klaus tries to grapple with another one of his belts and he shudders when there’s a nip right on top of his pulse point as he releases the catch. Teeth bear down, tongue laving over the bruise forming and he’s breathless from the sting of it.

Heat pools in Klaus’- well fucking everywhere- but it settles in his hips.

Impatiently his fingers shove up Diego’s shirt and return to taking their fill of taut skin and the abdominals tensing under his touch sends a throb of heat straight down, he’s almost cursing when his trembling hands fail to undo the buttons and he can feel Diego’s smile against his skin. There’s a satisfaction to be had from the startled noise huffed into his neck when Klaus snags the soft material and _pulls _,__  threads snap and buttons clatter across the floor before he’s _finally_ given the access he wants. He glances up to meet dark eyes and, because as Klaus’ pointed out before- he’s a shit, he can’t resist reaching around and squeezing Diego’s ass as he smiles.

Hands slide down and bracket his thighs and there’s a split second where all he can see is a positively _filthy_ smile before Klaus _understands_ , and then he’s weightless, legs wrapping around trim hips, and of course Diego doesn’t need to use the wall to steady them. Klaus has always been slender, scrawny on the bad days but he still doesn’t expect to be held up by solid, unyielding arms and the dizzying sensation has him desperately clawing for more.

Though he quickly learns that this new position is the _worst_ , he gets to feel muscles jump under his palms as he steadies himself against Diego’s shoulders and his cock rubs in a deliciously tight friction under his boxers as he writhes, and he can _feel_ the way Diego’s body shivers as he grinds against him. But Klaus can’t do anything more than cling to sweat damp skin as Diego’s hand slides below his jeans and kneads his ass.

Klaus’ head thumps forward against Two’s and he’s pretty sure it should hurt but he doesn’t notice as his tongue flicks against the sensitive shell of Diego’s ear and fingers tighten on his skin. Klaus grins around the teasing bite he gives the delicate flesh and tries to filter out the groan he receives, he’s too stupidly hard and too stupidly desperate and this isn’t going to finish prematurely because Klaus has no fucking self control.

His smugness is short lived as Diego responds, lips closing on already purpling skin and the fucking overstimulation of his tongue teasing the bruised flesh has Klaus bucking from the pressure.

He’s not fucking around when he clasps Diego’s jaw and pulls him in so he can at the very least ravage this part of the man. He’s tastes like the shitty mocktails from earlier and Klaus isn’t going to count this as cheating, not when Diego’s licking into his mouth, and _fuck_  he wants to push away and grind closer against the constant feather light touches Two presses into the flesh of his sides.

Fingers quest from stroking stubble and up to grip Diego’s hair and there’s a sudden stillness in the room when he grazes the scar dissecting a line from his cheekbone along to his ear.

Klaus has touched the same mark countless times but something about this moment out of all of them has him halting. Diego’s blown out pupils catch his eyes and they’re paralyzing Klaus as his fingertips rest on that spot, and he can’t _fucking_  move. Can’t breath as his fingers soak in raised skin, body locking up as he’s cupping Diego’s jaw and everything is too slow, and he’s not thinking as Diego’s face softens at whatever he sees in Klaus’ eyes.

Diego saves him. Again. Face turning and teeth biting down into the flesh of his palm, the sting jolts Klaus into action.

“Bedroom. Now.”

He’ll fuck things up by saying something _dangerous_ soon if he’s not occupied by the canvas of rippling skin pressed against him.

Klaus can’t fumble for the light switch, or honestly remember where it is, so the bedroom remains dark as Diego carries him inside, Two has the smarts to kick the door shut behind them, thank fuck because if Klaus is interrupted tonight he’s going to implode.

He lands on the mattress with enough force to bounce in the air if Diego didn’t follow him down, hands shucking Klaus’ cropped shirt off and when his fingers graze his cheek on the way back down Klaus can’t resist parting his lips and he sucks Diego’s pointer finger into his mouth, flicks his tongue against the pad and groans at the wide eyes staring down at him.

Diego curses and then he’s marking a fucking warpath down the line of Klaus’ neck, tongue laving over one of his nipples and it has Klaus arching high off of the bed. He hooks his fingers into the belt loops of Diego’s jeans- which, why the fuck are they still on? And why the fuck are Klaus’ still on?- and pulls him closer, muttering between kisses, “If you’re going to fuck me, hurry up!”

“ _You’re_ g-going to f-fucking kill me.” Diego says, voice just a rasp as he presses a leg just right for Klaus to grind against, which he does, wantonly. Preens at the stuttered words because Diego looks the furthest from upset and it just makes Klaus want to take him on his tongue to see how wrecked he can make the man. But he has more important plans right now.

“Can you die later? Or at least touch my dick before you do, have a bit of common courtesy Diego.” Klaus can’t help but quip.

If Klaus thinks his retribution can be bad then Diego’s is fucking cruel, he’s whining when Two drags his unbuttoned jeans down along with his boxers, the cool air doing nothing to Klaus’ feverish skin. He can barely hear the scrape of his bedroom drawer opening and then Diego’s leaning back over him, pants gone, his fingers circle Klaus’ entrance in slow, lazy circles, and Klaus borders on begging a lot sooner than he wants to admit.

“Don’t touch yourself.”

Maybe it’s that he never lets Diego take his time, but the smirk he gives Klaus is _fucking wicked,_ as two slick fingers sink in to the knuckle.

Klaus twists his hands into the covers, mouth dropping open, hips shifting into the curl of Diego’s digits. Eyes clenching shut because the focused look on Diego’s face is too much to deal with when his body’s practically vibrating on the bed, a mess of sweat and spit and moans. Diego’s free hand runs soothingly across his shivering abdomen and Klaus can’t do more than grind against the source of the world’s best problem.

“You’re such a good boy.”

Klaus can’t continue like this, he’ll unravel far too fucking soon, each stroke and slide and crook of Diego’s fingers press firmly against his prostate and then they ease off and he’s biting into the flesh of his palm- precisely where Diego left a mark- to keep quiet.

“Diego, come _on _-”__

Teeth sink into his hipbone, and it’s nowhere near where he needs it, and Klaus doesn’t dare to disobey and touch his aching dick, not when he’s desperately needing to hear those two words again.

__“_ Good boy _.”__

Diego punctuates it with a wicked twist of his fingers, ruthlessly precise and Klaus is so fucking close as Diego’s murmuring praises against his skin. He’s left shuddering when Two pulls back and there’s one last touch over his flushed thighs before Diego’s drawing Klaus up for a kiss to devour what little air he has left in his lungs. He can feel the hard, persistent weight against the inside of his thigh as Diego’s hips shift against him, and all Klaus can feverishly imagine is how fucking  _full_ he’s going to feel.

Then Diego pauses, pulling back to look down at him and Klaus takes an impossibly long second to work out why. _'I can't have someone over me'_ _ _.__ He’d said it back in the very beginning of this thing, in the heat of a moment where Diego pressed him down and Klaus withdrew like he’d been scalded, it’s never come up again because they’ve not been in this position since.

What a time for the selfless idiot to remember Klaus’ words, to honour them with his hesitance and Klaus can feel something dangerously tender bloom deep within his chest. There’s a question in the air and a set of very distinctive paths they can take, that Klaus can take.

The answers already waiting for him, has been since long before he’s ever needed to call for it.

_You’re so fucked._

He hooks his arms around Diego’s shoulders, slides a leg along his hip and pulls him closer, and for a brief, startling moment Diego’s eyes fill with wonder and what else can Klaus do but wink before he pulls him in for a kiss that’s the slightest bit too gentle and his chest is tight when he feels the vigilante shifting his thighs until they’re positioned just right.

“Diego,” Klaus whimpers, his back arching as Two slides inside him with one firm motion, then his wrists are being pinned to the bed and strong hips are unceasingly fucking Klaus into the mattress.

Klaus tries to rock back, gain some control over the friction and sharp teeth close around his shoulder and he’s clenching and choking out needy, broken noises. Each angled thrust grinds into him perfectly and with every dragging pull Diego’s stealing another ounce of Klaus’ fracturing insanity.

Diego gives him no time to linger over that, he moves in smooth, punishing strokes that has Klaus trying to keep up, it’s futile because he’s always one step behind, mind turning static as Diego’s releases his wrists and moves to grip his hips tight enough to bruise. In the morning Klaus is going to touch those marks and his body will remember this moment, he’ll know what they mean.

The thought has a sharp heat coil in his stomach and he’s pulling Diego down so he can hide his breathless pleas in a kiss that’s too much tongue and teeth. It’s perfect because Klaus needs something that’s messy when he can’t escape from the raw sensation of being held in place and pumped into in a way that’s edging past just fucking and bordering on something else.

He’s too sensitive, and his minds frazzled, unable to rationalise why there’s a shuddering, pounding pain building inside his chest and that foreign feelings trying to settle over his limbs again and he can’t do anything about it, can’t stop his lungs from seizing.

A hand slides up from his side, a firm line over his chest with the barest impression of force and then coming to a stop at the juncture of his neck, squeezing with the lightest pressure that has Klaus’ entire being snap into focus, pulse fluttering wildly. The promise of cutting off his circulation oddly lets Klaus breath again and he’s taking in ragged gulps, unable to turn away from Diego’s eyes. It doesn’t go any further because they’ve never set the rules down for such a thing, but it’s enough that Klaus is there again, enough that he whines pitifully for something he craves and those slender fingers reposition at the sound, spanning his jaw and pulling him back to Diego’s mouth.

_Thank you, thank you, thank you._

Diego works his hips harder and Klaus is close, ridiculously close, as hoarse little moans vibrate between their kisses and this has a different rhythm, a different significance as he whispers something against Diego’s lips. All it takes is a hand curling around his dick and the barest of motions and Klaus is gone, back arching off the bed and his fingers use Diego’s shoulders as an anchor as he spills between them. He’s clenching down hard and Diego goes with him, face buried in Klaus’ neck as he comes, biting off a wounded sound against his skin.

Bloods pounding through Klaus’ ears, drowning out what he knows are heaving breaths as he tries to steady his jack-rabbiting heart. He’s only partially aware of Diego moving to fall down next to him and there’s barely room for a panicked trill to echo through his body before he’s encompassed by strong arms.

This is the softest thing yet, letting himself settle to the sound of Diego’s heart, a sound he - against his better judgement - is starting to associate with comfort and warmth. Worryingly Klaus is the one digging his nails in when Diego goes to withdraw, “I’m just going to get something to clean up with.”

“Do it later.” He’s failing at controlling the nervous hitch in his voice.

“That’s disgusting.” And Diego really isn’t good at lying to him.

“Hasn’t put you off yet.” Klaus hasn’t got the energy to smile when he hears a hum of agreement.

Warmth slowly filters through his skin and Klaus can feel the hesitant pause, the pursed lips resting against his skin, waiting for him to give the slightest encouragement so Diego can repeat those words spoken the other night.

Klaus doesn’t move, he can’t let that happen, because it’s a shitty thing to do, to allow Diego to present his feelings to Klaus when he’s got nothing of value to give in return. _Yet _.__

So he’s taken by surprise when he hears a different confession. “I like it when you stay.”

Klaus wriggles around and presses his face into the crook of Diego’s neck, waves aside the weakly pulsing demand that he flee.

Would it be that bad to put his faith in Diego?

_No it wouldn’t._

He curls in closer and presses a kiss to Diego’s collarbone and hopes that he understands what Klaus is trying to tell him.

_I want to stay with you._

 

* * *

 

The problem with the days where Klaus can feel alive are the ones that follow, where he hurts and cowers and nothing ever shines.

He wakes up alone.

Of all the fucking mornings.

 

**Di:**

_(09.32)_

Sorry, you were sleeping properly for once and I didn’t want to wake you, Luther needed some help with Five, I’ll be back in a couple of hours.

 

Which means there’s somebody waiting for him, from the lack of sound in the apartment he suspects its Vanya reading another one of her concert pieces. The thought of seeing her in a hungover state has him hauling his stiff body out of bed and pulling an old kimono gown on for some form of coverage. But when he pads out of the bedroom its startlingly quiet, Cat slinks over to greet him but she’s it. He’s completely alone.

Klaus showers and he tries not to think about what he could do with this newly earned trust, how much he doesn’t want it right now. He’s done what he set out to achieve, proven himself and Klaus should be feeling euphoric, he’s managed something that not long ago would have been impossible.

There's those marks, black and blue and purple. Precisely what he wanted, and with a press of his finger he's breaking out in goosebumps.

He feels unsettled, raw, hollowed out and hastily put together again.

But he already has a plan to help with that by the time the water runs cold, the rational part of his mind isn’t impressed and Klaus has no time for it, he’s only going out for a walk, there’s nothing nefarious going on. _Liar _.__ He shouldn’t be that surprised to find his brother thrown across the couch when he finishes dressing, guilt that thunders through his body when Ben’s lips quirk up at the sight of him.

“Finally, I came by earlier but the door was shut and I did _not_ wanna see whatever nasties you guys left behind last night.”

“How considerate of you.”

“I know, I’m the best. Oh god do I have some gossip to share, you won’t believe what Vanya, Five and Allison tried to drunkenly graffiti last night.”

“Sounds scintillating, can you tell me later?”

Out of all of them Ben really is the most observant, or he’s finely attuned to Klaus’ bullshit by now. “What’re you doing?” There’s far too much suspicion in his question and Klaus bristles.

“I’m only going out for a walk.”

“Klaus. Don’t do this.” Ben kneels up.

“Stop worrying, I’ll be back before anyone notices.”

“We can do something together, lets go out and find that new music store we’ve been talking about.” Concern shades over his eyes.

“Tomorrow, I pinky swear” There’s a crackling along his spine and breathings starting to come fast and shallow.

“Lets play music or watch TV, and not go to a bar.” Ben’s fearful eyes are starting to irritate him, did he not see how well Klaus managed last night, and anyway he’s only going for a fucking _walk_.

“I never said that!”

“Klaus-”

"Just leave it asshole!"

“You promised.”

Ben’s whisper halts him and Klaus crashes and burns around two fucking words. Again.

Music blares from his record player and he turns in time to see a flash of ginger and then Cat is innocently lounging on the couch, suspiciously close to Six. "What the fuck, how did you get her to-"

"Remind me how I can talk to anyone but you again?" Ben eases now he has Klaus’ attention, and it’s frustrating but between the familiar tunes and Ben’s outstretched hand the urge to flee the room starts to dissipate. He knows what’s wrong with him, his brothers presence gives his thoughts a transparency that affords him no way of avoiding the issue.

Klaus’ always known how to swing his hips or roll back into another’s lap for drinks, or drugs or a place to stay where he can sleep for one restless night. It’s all synthetically engineered for maximum effect, there’s nothing organic about the process, never a time where Klaus feels energy fizz through his body from the act.

It’s phantom hands and plastic kisses, the fractured bonds he’d hoarded until Dave obliterated his well maintained façade with that handsome smile and the promise of a slate wiped clean as they circled around one another and his skin lit up from Dave’s presence alone. His death left Klaus picking up shattered pieces with bloody hands, lacking the stomach to try and settle back into his old routine, and in a world he no longer wanted to exist within.

Now Klaus doesn’t know where he stands, if he’s brutally honest, there’s the complexities of his family, a life where he isn’t a soldier nobly fighting alongside the man he loves, but a wrecked broken fool who can’t work out how to navigate through this new normal.

Who takes Diego’s love and leeches off of it because he’s incapable of moving on.

Or he’s already beginning to and it terrifies him.

“Stop over thinking and dance you idiot.”

Ben reaches out and Klaus can almost believe that if he places his hand in the one presented to him there’ll be blood and skin and heat.

For a fraction of time glowing blue encases their palms and he’s being pulled into motion before the touch fades and the connection severs.

Klaus isn't doing this for Diego. Or Vanya. Or Luther and Allison. Most definitely not Five.

It’s for Ben who fills the room with his smile as they move.

Cat is darting around his feet, and Six is laughing, whirling so quickly, Klaus spins with him and the songs lending him a new power as it makes his feet glide across the floor, so light that he’s almost floating. He's spiralling across the room like a falling star and it's glorious the vigour that such freedom gives him.

Klaus gets it, there’s an electric current sizzling under his skin when he watches Ben’s arms wave haphazardly and all he can see is his adolescent brother on those rare days that they snuck away from the mansion to flail and bounce to songs inside their own heads, pretending they were anyone else for a few short hours.

The Hargreeves have always danced alone, in the prisons of their rooms where nobody can see how broken they are. But this is where number four is superior to his siblings, because he's never been alone. Not truly.

Ben jumps up and bounces on the couch, shouting out off tune vocals and fucking up the lyrics. They don't match, never have and never will, Klaus is fluid and supple, weaving wisps of magic through the air with the crook of his fingers. Ben's robotic, stiff in the shoulders and his clunky moves show little grace. But his passion shines out of every fucking pore in his body, death bows in the face of his magnificence and Klaus absorbs it all, infinitely jealous and hopelessly humbled by Ben's vitality.

In this self contained moment they've created together, Ben is undeniably, brilliantly alive.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally the smut is out there and Klaus isn't running away screaming whenever feelings are bought up :)


	4. Chapter 4

The funny thing about walking in the rain, Klaus ponders, is that in no way is it nearly as fucking romantic as the movies liked to trick people into believing.

In theory maybe, but in practice it’s utter bullshit. Perhaps he might not have so much disdain if the downpour didn’t leave his clothes plastered tightly against his skin, the chill on his exposed flesh sending warning signals to his brain that sober little twinks shouldn’t be out in this sort of weather.

This was unequivocally Diego’s fault. And maybe Luther’s.

“You can’t blame them for everything.”

“Shut up Ben.”

His brother could at least pretend that he was as miserably cold as Klaus, instead Ben bounces along beside him, a knowing smirk spread across his face.

“I don’t want to say I told you so… but I-”

“If you’re not here to help then, with all of the love I can muster, fuck off.”

“Love received, still doesn’t change the fact that you’re sulking.”

Which he most definitely fucking isn’t, not even slightly.

Ben spins so he’s walking backwards just in front of Klaus, and no matter if he speeds up, Six can move that bit faster. “Y’know this might be better if you didn’t have a thing against umbrellas.”

“Is that meant to be a clever dig asshole?”

“No, just a _clever_ observation, that you’re an idiot who doesn’t listen when I say it’s going to rain.”

What Klaus really feels like is tired, cold, dejected, and the spirit’s trailing behind him like he’s the pied fuckin’ piper are a particularly loud bunch of fuckers. If he has to listen to that Irish shit launch into another ditty then he might jump in front of the next truck he sees.

When the wailing excuse for singing peaks he can’t help but twirling around and yelling, “Do you mind shutting the fuck up!”

Which apparently she does, because the next thing Klaus hears is some mournful ballad.

“Wow, you really told her.” Ben slow claps.

“Fuck you.”

“Sorry, wrong brother for that.”

Klaus runs through some of his more inventive curses as Ben skips backwards like it’s no big deal. The thing is, he’s more than aware he can send the spirit away, but then another one would just replace her, and then another, and then a dozen more would take up the originals place. He hasn’t got the energy to start that sort of process, it’s better off blanking them, and he’s gotten pretty decent at blocking out the noise recently, not a reality altering, drugged up type of ignorance, but good enough.

The idea of returning home isn’t appealing right now, not when there isn’t anyone there right now to chastise him for the sodden mess he’s in and he feels this brittle cold ache vibrating through his bones, it’s unfortunately becoming familiar.

Ben understands without the need for Klaus to explain. “I’m thinking we need a treat, midnight diner run?”

“Sounds good, eggs?.”

“And waffles?”

“And waffles.” Klaus agrees.

 

* * *

 

Klaus wants it on record that he’s not been stalking Diego.

Despite whatever the fuck Ben wants to call it.

He likes to think that he knows himself pretty damn well, and the one thing that’s always guaranteed to spark his natural curiosity is a mystery. Especially in the last few weeks when everything’s become a lazy routine of sorts.

 _Normality_. He hates it.

The problem became apparent one night when he was alone, _well not really,_  television blaring out one of Ben’s shows and Klaus’ in the middle of trying to finish off the tail end of a knitted scarf he wants done before Allison flies home for Claire’s birthday. He’s tried really fucking hard this time, for once there’s barely a loose stitch in sight, and he’s half listening to Ben’s vitriolic outrage as his favourite character in the love triangle loses out on the girl.

Klaus’ switching between fending Cat away from his work with carefully aimed jabs of his elbow and wandering whether he’s going to wait up for Diego to come back from whatever the fuck he does on these midnight escapades, when the realisation smashes into him with the force of a speeding train.

_“Oh fucking hell!”_

Ben deserves credit for how fast he goes from lounging on his back to rolling onto his knees, bracing himself just in front of Klaus’ criss cross position.

“Are you okay?” When he doesn’t immediately reply, brain occupied with confirming the awful truth, Ben looms closer, eyes boring into his. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Ben, I’ve become… _domestic_.”

He waits for Six to share in the horror, Ben’s mouth opens, closes, opens again, and he’s pushing himself away, then his utter shit of a brother howls with laughter, hunched over from the force of it and Klaus is not fucking amused.

“Wait, don’t go, I’m sorry.” Ben calls out when Klaus’ halfway to the bedroom door, against his better judgement he glances over his shoulder. Ben’s mouth curls but he’s clearly trying to appear serious. “Tell me all about your… problem.” There’s a twitch but Six presses a knuckle to his lips.

“What the fuck are we doing here?” Klaus isn’t panicking surprisingly, he’s simmering, but it’s not boiling over into something nasty. “Look at us, we’re sat around like a pair of old spinsters.”

“It’s a Tuesday.”

“That’s not what I meant, it’s just…”

“You’d normally be too high to know what day it is.”

“No. Well yeah, but-”

“You’re succumbing to the inertia that comes with sobriety?”

“God-”

“Close, but that’s not my name.”

Klaus’ about to aim a knitting needle for Ben’s temple when his brother starts laughing again, and frustratingly he’s close to joining in with him. Because Ben’s right. He’s realising how aimless his life is, unsure of what to do with himself and without the chemical fog weighing down his brain, it’s hard to deal with such inactivity.

“So what do I do?” He asks.

“Get a job?”

Before Klaus can reply, Ben adds, “A legal one.”

Well that’s all of his options gone.

“Find a hobby?”

Klaus raises his knitting. “This and sex.”

“Go to college, get a proper education.”

“At least I’d know how to get straight A’s.”

“You’d fuck them all within the first week wouldn’t you?”

“Bold of you to assume I couldn’t manage it in a day.” They both pause to imagine, then shudder simultaneously.

Klaus decides not to do any of Ben’s suggestions, why waste time bettering himself when he can do his usual trick, play the magpie and find a shiny distraction from the encroaching listlessness.

Diego manages to deliver such a diversion, on the same night as well, he’s rather kind like that.

When he waltzes in Klaus isn’t even surprised to see the split lip, or the start of a bruise swelling around his left eye. Diego has always been antagonistic at best, added to his vigilante tendencies it was hardly a surprise when he turned up a little worse for wear.

“Somebody had his ass kicked.”

“You wanna see Luther’s face.” Diego’s got tells just like any other person, Klaus is rather good at noticing, but he doesn’t even need them, Diego’s mouth hangs open at the end of his sentence and it’s clear that he’s slipped up in some way.

_Oh hi there Mr Distraction._

Complete and utter idiot, Klaus thinks gleefully as he latches onto the tidbit, he wouldn’t have questioned such a comment further if not for his brothers reaction.

“Why was-”

Diego’s attempts at changing the subject are about as subtle as Luther’s fucking hard on for the moon.

Which is to say Klaus ends up being carried into his bedroom, slung over a muscular shoulder and he doesn’t get time to speak once he’s finished giggling because Diego’s mouth covers his and steals the air from his lungs. Diego is a stubborn bastard, Klaus has come to know this intimately well, and that tenacious attitude carries perfectly into the bedroom.

Several hours later his brain kicks back in when he’s staring at a patchwork of bruises stretching along the toned muscles of Diego’s chest while the man sleeps. They’re not his marks, that rules still firmly in place, even with all of the other complications.

What he finds interesting is that there’s bruising at all, he’s seen Diego fight, and despite everyone’s teasing, they’re all well aware that without using their powers Number Two is by far the superior fighter. Aside from those pesky time travelling colleagues of Five’s he’s never seen his brother beaten, Klaus presses his pointer finger against the skin, and even with how gently he traces over the discoloured flesh Diego still shifts subconsciously away.

Klaus waits until Diego leaves before he puts his theories across to Ben in the morning. “I’m thinking that some investigating is due Benny.”

“Or, now hear me out, how about you just ask Diego?” Nobody can pull off sarcasm quite as well as Ben.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I stamped it out when it got me killed.”

“You need to get over that.”

Klaus ignores his brothers bemused smile and starts counting up the facts like an amateur legal aid, a finger rising for each one. “He disappears not just at night anymore, but all times of the day. Luther’s involved in some way. Five’s in on it, the guy knows fucking everything. They’re being reckless, or dealing with more than the average fuckwit. I mean what other evidence do you want?”

“Something concrete would be nice.” Ben rolls his eyes but clearly recognises it’s futile to argue. “Vanya might know something?”

“I don’t want them to know I’m on to them, and I adore our sweet violinist, but she’s weak.”

“What?”

“She’ll fold the second Five bats his eyes at her.”

“Fine, Allison? I doubt Luther can manage the whole lost puppy look.”

“Nah, he’ll drone on about the moon and his daddy issues until she gets fed up and tells him.”

“Good point.” Ben concedes.

“You wait and leave it to me, I have a master plan.”

Ben doesn’t look convinced.

Which is fair, because he really doesn’t. Which is what ends up culminating in Klaus’ failed attempt in the rain, and that’s only down to his poor planning, next time he won’t leave it until Diego’s half way down the street before trying to tail him.

Plus it might help not to wear something so colourful.

Ben decides mocking him is the best course when Klaus’ crouching outside the bathroom door, one ear kept on the shower, and he may or may not be sniffing Diego’s sweater from where he’d dumped it on the floor.

“So does your ‘plan’ include acting like a bloodhound?” Ben asks, not at all sarcastically. _Shitbird_. “You know how weird this looks, what’re you gonna do if he comes out and you’ve got your face in his stuff?”

“I’ll pretend I have a kink for sweaty clothes.”

“You kinda do.”

“Well then it’s perfectly believable.” Klaus straightens up when he finds nothing out of order.

“I bet Poirot never did this sort of thing.”

“I don’t have a clue who that is.”

“Five’s right, you _are_ a degenerate.” Ben’s voice drips with disdain.

Klaus cheerfully flips him off. “You can’t pretend this whole vigilante crap isn’t interesting.”

“It’s really not Klaus, and he’s never tried to hide it, so why are you making such a big deal?”

“Precisely, honestly Benny, considering you’re meant to be the smart one you really don’t use your brain that much.” Before his brother can object Klaus continues. “If Diego’s always been open about that sort of thing, then whys he hiding it now?”

“Oh.”

Wow, he’s actually managed to impress Ben for once.

“This would all be a hell of a lot easier if you’d just follow them for me.”

“And help contribute to your stalking _shtick_? No thanks.” Ben somehow, despite all of the shit Klaus knows about him, manages to pull off a good rendition of a self righteous asshole.

“I’m not stalking him. C’mon you’ve gotta admit it’s shady, fishy, peculiar-”

“Should I crack open a dictionary before you run out of words?”

“Prick, asshole, shitbird, motherfu-”

“Wow, how original.”

Before they can continue the water’s turned off, Klaus bounds across the room and dives onto the couch, rearranging himself into a casual position just as Diego steps out.

“I could swear you guys were saying my name.”

Klaus waves a hand lazily at the television. “Ben was waxing lyrically about how beautiful I look tonight.”

“Bullshit.” His brothers eerily declare together.

 

* * *

 

“It’s not that bad.”

“Really? I know those two aren’t the sharpest crayons in the pack but this is lazy.”

“At least I blend in.” Klaus mutters quietly.

“Yes, wearing black at night is the height of stealth.”

Klaus ignore. “I wanna know how anyone can wear this much clothing and be happy.”

“It’s one turtleneck, and does it matter when you’re clearly the master of disguises.” Ben deadpans.

“Piss off, it’s the best I could come up with on short notice.”

And it had been short notice, he’d been slouched out on the bedroom floor, stuck in that odd state of ennui when Ben, finally taking pity on his sorry ass, had piped up from the window. “Luther’s trying to hide behind the coffee vendor on the corner.”

“The disgustingly perky one?” Klaus hauls himself upright.

“Yeah, and Diego’s going to meet him.”

“Fucking shit Ben, you coulda mentioned that first.”

Cue his frantic dash to leave, and although it’s only one of Diego’s dark sweaters he’s wearing, the materials heavy and swamps over his shoulders, but it’s better than the glitter laden crop top underneath.

By the time he’d practically flown down the street there’s nothing to follow, or there wouldn’t be if Ben didn’t sigh dramatically and cant his head. “Luther’s that way Sherlock.”

“Who the fuck is he?” Klaus doesn’t wait around to listen to Ben’s spluttering outrage.

He really is the epitome of stealth, Klaus thinks as he stalks, _not in that way,_ after number One. Even after a year of inactivity, longer if he excludes Vietnam, some latent muscle memory unspools from Reginald’s torture, _training_ , regime. Physical altercations weren’t his forte, and good old Sir decided his real talents lay elsewhere, and he’d never complained when it meant that for an hour every day he’d be taken down to one of the smaller rooms and his ballet mistress would school him.

At the peak of his training, when the spirits near drove him insane with their incessant demands for his attention, that hour became vital and bizarrely bought Reginald’s only acknowledgement of the positive kind, in the form of his withdrawal, the barked commands fading away and the lack of noise became the greatest reward that Klaus worked towards. He really has to give it to his sadistic excuse for a father, at least the man knew the true worth of silence.  

Klaus’ just about to congratulate himself for this success, when he ducks down a narrow alleyway and walks into what feels like a wall of steel. Unfortunately it’s a lot worse than that, and he’s scowling fiercely as he rubs his skull while Luther looks faintly amused by his attempts to rebalance himself.

“ _Jesus _!__  Warn a guy before you almost brain him with your abs asshole.”

“I’ll remember that the next time someone’s following me.” Luther glances above them and Klaus has just enough time to smother the guilty flush creeping up the back of his neck before he hears Diego’s weight settling on the fire escape on the apartment building to his right.

“I’m enjoying a moonlit walk with Ben.” _Partially true._ “And I’m not following you guys.” _Massive fucking lie._

Luther’s face tells Klaus that he’s already been judged and convicted of major bullshit.

“I don’t know Klaus, I’m a bit worried.” _Say what now?_ “If you aren’t following us then it doesn’t look good that you’re wandering the streets at this time of night, does it look dodgy to you Diego?”

“It certainly does.”

_Bastards _.__

Klaus thinks he might be less offended if Luther actually thought he was looking for a hit. It’s his own fault for not realising the big guy has some brains up there, enough at least to leave Klaus either confessing to scoring or that he’s stalking them.

“Games up, unless you have anymore elaborate ruses?” Ben smiles softly.

“How did you guys know?” Because for all of his flaws Klaus is a stealthy fucker.

“You have a big mouth,” He throws a dirty glare up at Diego, unable to stop the heat settling over his face at the complacent curl tilting Two’s lips, and before Klaus can reply with something lewd, Diego continues. “If you don’t want to get caught then try not to discuss your plans quite so loudly.”

_Fucking shit._

“Well isn’t this awkward.” Ben whistles cheerfully.

“Drop dead.” Klaus hisses back.

“Find a new insult you sourpuss.”

Luther interrupts before Klaus can retort. “So are you happy now you’ve found us?”

 _Prick_. From his brothers grins it’s obvious they’ve let him find them, Klaus haughtily draws himself to his full height, it’s pure shit that even then he’s still craning his neck to look Luther in the eye. “I want to know what everyone’s been hiding from me.”

“And you couldn’t just ask?” Diego smirks.

_Why does everyone in their family smirk?_

_Assholes._

“I don’t want to say I say I told you so, but….” Ben’s becoming far too smug.

“Well I’m asking now.” Klaus may, possibly, be feeling defensive.

Luther takes pity on him, “I’ve been going out with Diego-”

“Shit you should have told me, congratulations-”

“Fuck off Klaus.”

He appreciates the warm chuckle from above. “My sincerest apologies, do continue brother.”

Luther eyes him suspiciously and Klaus almost feels the tiniest bit guilty, but he’s still a bastard, so he gives him a lazy smile. _See he can smirk too._

Diego, clearly fed up of waiting, cuts straight to the point. “He’s been joining me on the ‘vigilante’ trips.”

“Wow Luther, I thought you had some arbitrary code of justice?”

“Needs must.” Luther tries, and fails, to sound nonchalant.

“Father would be so proud.” Ben snickers.

Klaus can’t help, “Reggie wasn’t capable of anything other than stern disapproval Number Six.”

“How do you cope with them?” Luther peers up at Diego and Klaus wants to laugh at his baffled expression.

“I’m a saint in disguise, anyway do you want to help?” Diego asks curiously.

“With the whole ‘cracking skulls and breaking bones’ business?”

Diego’s smile turns fond for a second and Klaus is so pathetically sad that he would probably say yes to anything the man asks. “If you want, shame to chip your pretty nail polish though.”

He hides a snort behind Luther’s choked wheezing. “That’s true, so what else can I… _Ah_ … Who do you need to speak with?”

“We don’t know, Beamen gives me a heads up on anything interesting and we go and follow up.”

“Good to know we still have law abiding officers.”

There’s something else there, Klaus took the same lessons as his brothers, he can recognise the tells, he’s not being told everything, but it can’t harm to go along and scope things out.

“Klaus, if it’s too much-”

“It’s fine Luther, I’ve got those fancy techniques of yours if I’m in trouble.”

One fucking beams, that big goofy grin stretching over his face and it makes Klaus’ teeth ache from the sweetness, “Jesus, tune it down before someone forgets you’re a bitchy little furry.”

“I’ll keep go play look out.” For _fuck_ sake, Luther looks even happier as he walks away and Klaus can only shake his head despairingly.

“C’mon Séance, let’s go use those fancy moves.”

Klaus really needs to work on Ben’s razzing, even if it is a little funny at times, he’s only halfway up the ladder when Diego leans down, Klaus hesitantly takes the proffered hands reaching for him, and it shouldn’t be so swoonworthy that his brother can pull him up through the air like he’s weightless.

Though the feeling dissipates after the fourth set of steps and Klaus really doesn’t know how Diego can find this enjoyable, he’s covered in a light sheen of sweat by the time they’ve lugged themselves through the appropriate window and ducked under a lurid line of police tape.

“Don’t touch anything.”

“Wow captain obvious, how would I ever have thought of that by myself. I don’t suppose you have a spare pair of those kinky gloves on you?”

Diego raises an unimpressed brow and Klaus ignores him in favour of looking around the apartment. It’s a bog standard layout, nothing particularly noteworthy aside from the upturned furniture, there’s not even the basic bloodstains that never come out no matter how hard you scrub. Diego’s slowly scoping out the place, like there might be somebody waiting at a crime scene to jump a ragtag bunch of idiots.

“Klaus,” Ben calls from down the corridor, and the sight of him standing, preternaturally still, in an open doorway sends a sharp chill down his spine. Suddenly all of Klaus’ humour and false bravado stutters out and he really doesn’t want to know what’s holding Ben’s attention, not with all of the things they’ve seen that Ben’s never flinched over. All of the ichor and gore, the mutilated bodies and the wailing, his brothers been there for so many years and despite seeing and hearing the worst of humanity, Ben’s never hesitated to be by his side.

There’s no other option really, so Klaus walks with far more confidence than he feels to join Six, he doesn’t pause before entering the room and it’s a mistake.

There’s the blood.

A fucking swirl of ice nestles in his gut, clenching down, _hard_ , as he finds the small boy tucked away between a mountain of soft toys.

 _God _,__ he can’t be any older than eight, maybe nine.

And there’s a bullet hole right in the centre of his chest.

It’s too much and Klaus has to focus on blonde curls that are so pale they’re almost white, if only so he doesn’t have to see the spiral of blood etching out from that perfect circle.

_Following Diego was meant to be fun._

He cycles through all of the times Grace used to comfort them, trying to find something of relevance, because a child is about as out of his depths as he can get and where do you start to begin, this is unprecedented even for him. The only thing he can think to draw upon are the generic platitudes he stole from movies and novels to fill the negative spaces of Reginald’s neglect, it’s dismal, but the best he’s got.

_Deep breath… Maybe another one._

“Can you see me?” The boy speaks first, far braver than Klaus, and murky green eyes look him over curiously.

 _Breathe _.__ “I can, what’s your name?”

“Connor.”

“Hi Connor, I’m Klaus.”

“Who’s he?”

“Ah,” He forgets the rules sometimes, this is Connor’s spot, and that comes with some degree of power. “That’s Diego out there, don’t worry he’s an idiot.”

“Klaus have you found someone?” Diego stops in the doorway and thankfully he waits there because Connor’s eyes are widening and his form flickers nervously behind a particularly large teddy bear. Bizarrely it helps assuage some of Klaus’ nerves, a protective urge skittering through his system.

“Mommy says you shouldn’t play with knives.” Of all the things for the boy to focus on.

“Ah, well have you ever seen the film Edward Scissorhands?” _Shitbird! He’s too fucking young._

“Mommy said no, but I watched it with Gus, he’s my best friend.”

_Ah _.__

“Well think of Diego like that, he’s a lot less cool though, and Ben over there is just like you.” Klaus catches Ben waving awkwardly in his periphery.

Connor’s watching him with an open fascination and Klaus wonders whether there’s something different about how he appears to these spirits. Aware that he’s looming over the tiny child, Klaus lowers himself to the ground, his fingers are so painfully cold and luckily Diego’s sleeves are long enough to hide the shaking digits.

“Do you think I could speak to your mommy?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“She’s gone.” Connor mournfully whispers, in a way that no child should ever fucking sound. “They took her.”

“Who took her?”

Connor looks around the room and then inches closer, Klaus leans forwards and he must be projecting, because he swears he can feel a gentle exhale against his skin as the boy mutters, “The bad friends.”

There’s a sickening chill spreading up his spine and he doesn’t want to ask, but there’s really no other choice. “Who are the bad guys Connor?”

“I don’t know,” Connor shakes his head sadly, moving back amongst his soft toys. “Mommy told me to keep my eyes closed, no matter what, and I was a good boy.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Will it help mommy?”

“It might do.”

Connor weighs this up, weighs Klaus up, with those big, sweet eyes and apparently finds him trustworthy.

“I was sleeping and Mommy woke me up, which was naughty but she said we needed to play a game and it was a special one. We built my teddy fort for me to hide inside, and mommy told me that if I didn’t break the rules then I could have a Twizzler. They’re my favourites!”

“Mine too.” Klaus lies, “What were the rules?”

“I had to close my eyes and cover my ears, like this.” Connor demonstrates, “And she said that I had to be super quiet until she came back.”

“Did you do it?”

“Of course,” Connor snorts, “I’m the best at games, but nobody else did a good job, there was someone banging at the door and then there was this big noise and mommy started screaming.”

_I don’t want to hear this._

Connor reads his expression differently. “Don’t worry she stopped, her friends talked a lot then.”

“Okay, did you hear what they were saying?”

“No silly, I was holding my ears, remember?”

“Of course, sorry.” _Take a breath._

“It’s okay… Can you keep a secret?”

“I’m the best at keeping secrets.”

“I cheated. But only cos I sneezed, I promise. Mommy’s friends wanted her to go with them.”

“Did they say where?”

Connor stutters over some of the longer words but Klaus relays the random array to Diego on the off chance it makes sense to him. “What happened then?”

“I played the game. I didn’t open my eyes once.”

_He doesn’t know._

_Fuck!_

Klaus has to ask.

“Do you remember what happened after they left?”

“Someone came in to my room, they moved some of my teddies.”

“And you kept playing?”

“Yeah, I did really well,” Connor smiles and it’s beautiful, and he’s so unbearably young that Klaus wants to scream. “I didn’t stop when the man told me to move, because mommy said to wait for her.”

“She did.” He whispers.

“He picked me up but I had to stay with my teddies so I wriggled really hard, like a worm and he dropped me and he said some really naughty words. Mommy says that bad people use naughty words, and that means her friends were bad people.”

 _Breathe_.

“Then there was this really loud bang.”

 _ _“_ Fuck _.”_  _Ben whines.

“I don’t remember what happened then. I’m sorry Klaus.”

_Don’t be sick._

“That’s alright, can you remember anything before I came here?”

“There was a lot of people but nobody would speak to me, so I think I was sleeping. But then this girl came into my room, and she had a really cool bike Klaus.”

_Breathe _.__

“I bet she did.”  _Fucking bitch._

“I told her mommy wouldn’t like it being inside making a mess, she said it didn’t matter and I had to come with her, but I said no.”

“Because mommy told you to wait.”

“Yep, and I’m not meant to talk to strangers.”

Klaus can’t think, can’t focus, can’t breathe. But Ben’s silent and it’s up to him to be an adult.

“Well done, you’ve really helped us out Connor, thank you.” _Fuck _.__  It hurts so fucking badly as Connor’s smile widens.

“You’re welcome.” _How’re you still smiling?_

“Umm, right, we need to go, so let’s see if we can move you on from here-”

“No thank you.” The little boy interrupts in the sweetest voice.

“Don’t worry I’ll help-”

“I’m going to wait for mommy.”

“Connor I can’t leave you here.” This isn’t what he signed up for, but he tries to subtly inch closer.

“I’m. Waiting. For. Mommy.”

Something unnatural bristles along Klaus’ skin, his stomach spasms around the frost that feels like it’s forming there. He’s forgotten the fucking rules again.

This is Connor’s spot. _He died here._

This place is imbued with his very essence, with the dying thoughts and last wishes of an innocent soul. There’s power, _old power_ , from that kind of sacrifice, even an unintentional one.

“I know how to find you.” There’s a flash of something across his soft face and maybe Connor knows more than Klaus gave him credit for.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“Klaus, he’s too young to-” Ben jolts forward and it’s cruel but Klaus forcefully waves him back, not watching the twisted disbelief settle over his brothers face.

It’s a terrible call, but it’s Klaus’ to make. It’s his power and this is his mantle to assume, one that he’s abandoned for far too long. He may be biased, he may even be projecting himself onto the younger boy, yet Klaus’ seen that look in the mirror and he knows desperation when it’s screaming behind a genial smile.

It’s just fucking sick that a child looks at him like that.

Connor gives him one final nod and it’s enough, the tiniest hand in the world thrusts out, and Klaus doesn’t hesitate in reaching for it, Diego’s gasping behind him as an azure glow shines blindingly bright and then just as quickly it’s gone.

“Bye Klaus.” Connor’s sinking back amongst his teddies, still smiling. Still dead.

“Bye Connor.”

 

 

Klaus doesn’t stop moving until he’s jumping off of the fire escape and he’s bracing his weight against the wall, sucking in greedy lungfuls of sweet oxygen as Diego hovers over him.

“Shit Klaus, are you alright?” Luther abandons his watch duty to lumber towards him.

“Just dandy Captain,” He lies, and Diego doesn’t call him out on it, the steadying hand pressed between his shoulder blades is gratefully accepted.

“Did you manage to get anything?”

Diego saves him from answering and Klaus ignores them both as they talk, zoning in on Ben standing away from him, eyes staring off into the distance and… _Fuck!_ He used his powers against his brother.

How ludicrous to think he’d felt dissatisfied with simplicity, this is such a bitter reminder of why he hated their childhood. Unsettlingly there’s a frigid, piercing sensation prickling over his skin that wants to demand he finds the monster capable of shooting a child point blank. Is that what Diego felt like, whenever he became a manic cyclone of justice, crashing around until he was released. It’s so very tempting, Klaus can understand it, far too much.

“You alright?” Luther asks again.

“Peachy.”

“Who was Connor?”

Luther would be the perfect antonym of tactful, Klaus takes no shame in letting his voice fall flat. “None of your fucking business.”

And it’s not, they have the details they wanted, Connor’s story is his, and Ben’s. But this is his power, therefore it’s his responsibility, he wanted something from the little boy and in exchange it’s his job to protect Connor’s death.

Fucking simple.

“Maybe we should leave it for tonight, start fresh tomorrow?” Diego suggests.

As much as he’d like to keep the comfort of that steady hand, he needs to talk with Ben, so Klaus plasters a neutral expression on his face. “No, you should follow up on those street names, see if they’re any good.

“You could come with us?” Luther offers.

Klaus knows what One would like, he’d have to be pretty fucking obtuse not to. He’d have to be Luther.

Because he’s not, Klaus catches Ben’s almost imperceptible flinch at their larger brothers words.

There’s a genuine reason Ben’s not ready to work on gaining a corporeal form, why neither of them have pressed for a test of Klaus’ powers. That night in the theatre was an eye opening event for Klaus, feeling the true might of the Horror like it was his own phantom limbs, even with the control he’d somehow wielded, the whole situation was an _experience_.

Klaus like many of his siblings never gave enough consideration to the cost it took Ben to summon those eldritch nightmares, how much it drained a part of his soul, even in death, each time he allowed the creatures to use him. Worse was Ben’s fear of feeling a passenger in his own body, of losing control of the one thing that should inherently belong to him.

Death, unintentionally, gave Ben a modicum of peace.

Took away all of his options, the theatre was a one off, and despite Klaus’ jokes and teasing about summoning him, it’ll never truly happen, not without his brothers permission. So Klaus has and will continue to keep Ben’s secret, he doesn’t mind if anyone ends up blaming him for their brother hiding, better it be a fault of his weakness than his brothers insecurities.

Ben doesn’t deserve the questions, and Klaus is the best at letting people down.

They’re a good team.

“No thanks, Number Four is closed for the night. First time that’s ever happened.” He winks tiredly.

Maybe Klaus’ the slightest bit exhausted as well.

So he leaves the dynamic duo to do their business, flipping off Luther, and squeezing Diego’s hand as it drops down from his back. It’s not until he’s sure that the idiots aren’t following him that Klaus dares to sneak a look at Ben.

At least his brothers still walking next to him, so that’s something. Klaus wants to give Ben eloquent words, the correct assortment of which might convey how truly fucking disgusting what he did was. But he’s not Five, and the best he has is the most over used phrase in any language.

“I’m sorry.”

Ben doesn’t falter in his pace. “I get why you did it. I don’t like it… But I understand, so lets leave it there.” It’s not forgiveness but he’ll take it.

Klaus thinks, to coin a phrase, that there must be something in the air tonight. He can barely take a step without having to duck around a spirit, it’s like one of those undead thrillers, like you don’t want to inhale to deeply because the stench of death should choke you. Ben, despite Klaus’ mistake, stays plastered to his side and he’s indebted to his brother, for never leaving him alone, even when he deserves it.

“Klaus?” He hums in acknowledgement, “Never do that to me again.”

“I promise.”

As they trudge into the apartment, Klaus doesn’t hesitate in throwing himself on top of the bed, Cat crawls up and he absorbs the warmth her little body gives him. Ben, god fucking bless him, doesn’t hesitate in lying down opposite him, and between the trio time passes not too slowly.

Hours later Diego hesitantly slips into the room, and in the darkness it might be easy to miss him standing there. But Klaus’ far too aware of Diego, and he’s already reaching out, fingers hooking on one of the harnesses straps and tugging the vigilante down to join them, and Klaus settles, safely ensconcing himself between his two brothers.

 

* * *

 

There’s a spirit in his sanctum.

Taking up precious space and filling his refuge from the world with ear splitting screeches and derogatory slurs which Klaus might have tolerated, but seeing it float in behind Diego like it’s his fucking shadow is too much.

Ben hovers nearby but Klaus doesn’t need his help with this, he’s angry, like _really_ fucking angry. The thing he’s long since identified with his moods, whole damn psyche, is that when he’s sober he struggles to feel things half way, there’s no gently stewing irritation that builds over time into something more. There’s no warning for even himself when something tests his ire, it’s an eruption that spills out until he’s saying stuff that he really doesn’t mean, and after Connor he’s been like a tanker of gasoline waiting to light up.

Diego’s concealing a limp that indicates an injury worse than the usual contusions and bruising, which makes things worse because there’s a trickle of fear in his gut for the possible outcomes that might have played out. Ones where Diego wouldn’t be standing in front of him with a growing look of concern, and frankly it just stokes that red hot temper.

“Status?” He barks out the clinical term Reggie used countless times, another distinction between caring like a father and an owner assessing his property.

His brother flinches. “I’m fine.”

“What happened?”

“Klaus, don’t be like that.” Diego comes to step closer, and Klaus might have let him if the blood soaked spirit didn’t flit along with him.

“Why not, or should I ask your new friend?”

“What new… Oh, I didn’t think-”

“Clearly.” The spirit spews out another ream of filth and although some sentences Klaus might use himself, he won’t tolerate some racist bastard’s vituperation towards his brother, even if he did kill him. “Right, time for you to go.”

It’s a shame Klaus’ not calm enough to realise how easily he draws that phosphoresce gleam between his fingers, and how it’s even easier to send the malicious spectre away with a barely perfunctory wave of his hand.

“Do you want me to stay?” Ben asks cautiously.

“No, thank you.” Six nods and then he’s fading away, hopefully to somewhere more pleasant.

When he glances back to Diego it’s aggravating, he’s nowhere near as guilty as he should be in Klaus’ opinion. “We’re not the Umbrella Academy anymore, you do know that right?”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Are you sure? Because the last time I remember any of us killing ‘bad’ people was when Dad threatened to beat us with his cane if we didn’t.”

Diego recoils, a cold, hurt expression flitting across his face. “You know it’s not the same thing Klaus, we’re not just _attacking_ anyone Dad judges guilty, and I’m not the _only_ one who’s going out there now.

“Everyone knows Luther’s a shit for brains idiot who follows anyone with a plan, he’s like a fucking retriever, point him in the right direction and off he trots.”

“So it’s okay for him to do this but not me?” Diego asks incredulously.

“I expect better from you, and I don’t expect to have you walking in here with your latest _victim_.”

“Seemed like you got rid of him just fine.”

It’s like Diego’s purposefully trying to be antagonistic. Like he doesn’t understand the seriousness of his transgression, bar the minor blip with Luther, there’s not been a spirit within these walls. This is his home. He’s meant to feel safe here.

Klaus knows he’s being irrational, he’d practically given his blessing after Connor, but maybe that’s why he’s on edge, everything feels so raw and open, and there’s also another glaring issue.

Because if he has to see Diego standing in front of him with a hole in his chest, _why is it always the chest,_ Klaus doesn’t know what he’ll do.

“What if you’d gotten hurt?”

Diego’s brows knit together in confusion. “But I wasn’t.”

The obtuse nature of his brother pulls words out of his mouth that he doesn’t mean to say.  “What happened to, _‘Nobody wants to see you die Klaus. Don’t make me watch that.’_ But it’s okay for you to do that to me?”

Diego’s cruel tongue has always been legendary amongst their family, especially when he feels trapped or overwhelmed, so the dumbfuck can’t seem to help his reply, “I didn’t know you cared that much little brother, maybe you should have made that clearer.”

Diego’s eyes widen in disbelief at himself and that’s all it takes for Klaus’ temper to explode.

It’s been far too long since somebody has snapped back at Klaus with just as much fury and bite, and it’s been even fucking longer since it’s been done by somebody he cares about. Not that Klaus can acknowledge such a thought, let alone say it aloud, because if he does then it brings them one step closer to being something new. And _fuck_ if that’s not terrifying, the idea of being so vulnerable.

Klaus is sure that he doesn’t like this, hurting Diego with brutally aimed words, and he’d very much like for them both to fucking stop! The shouting or this thing they’re doing, he doesn’t know in that moment. _Yes you do._

But it doesn’t stop, he keeps it going and so does Diego, it’s dissolving past their original comments and into something cruel, nasty and a familiar rage and crippling fear twists and circulates in Klaus’ chest, building to a crescendo and then plummeting into-

“Get the fuck out!” It’s a hoarse whimper and he loathes it, _Coward_! The heat is leaving him, ice crystallising in his veins and he hasn’t got much time before he’s clawing for air in his shower. _Pathetic._

Diego steps towards him and Klaus summons whatever thrum of energy he has left, whatever reserves he’s desperately stored away for emergencies.

“Just get out, I don’t fucking care where you go!”

He raises a hand as the man gets closer, held out in the universal gesture to stop. Diego never fucking listens.

But this time he does.

With a tight jaw and clenched fists, Diego walks away.

 

* * *

 

“Do you want to leave?” Klaus asks when his throat’s stopped seizing up, he’s curled on his side on the tiled bathroom floor and the worst of his screaming is finished.

Ben stretches his lanky frame out next to him and his clever brother knows what Klaus’ referring to.

“Not right now, I think I’m happy like this, but one day…”

Okay. That’s what’s really _terrifying_.

“Then again I can’t imagine I’ll like where I end up.”

Klaus’ attention snags then, he manages to raise a questioning brow.

“I’ve killed people Klaus.” Ben confesses.

“Reggie’s the only one to blame.”

“But I-”

“No!” Klaus interrupts, he’s suddenly angry again and it’s glorious how he’s given a shot of energy. “You don’t own any of that shit, he was a manipulative bastard that fucked with the minds of a bunch of children.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I’m a murderer.” Ben’s always been soft in regards to his morality, it’s the one glaring difference between them, Klaus doesn’t take shame in admitting he leans more towards Diego’s brand of justice, and Klaus' hypocrisy makes their fight seem even worse.

“God Ben. _We were just kids_. He shut us away in that house and he _tortured_ you, me, all of us, except for Luther and look how messed up he still is.”

Ben’s solemn, but he doesn’t look quite as stricken so that’s something Klaus guesses. “It just seems logical that I’m going straight down.”

“Then I’ll be your plus one.”

“I know.”

Ben takes it seriously, because Klaus is serious. He’s met that little girl in the sky, and he’s pretty sure he can fuck her off enough that she’ll let him follow his brother anywhere.

Klaus loves Ben, not in any of the confusing, soul searching ways that he learnt to with Dave and ~~Di~~ …

He loves Ben in a way that’s easy, Ben _makes_ it easy, the easiest thing in the world. It’s simple, and uncomplicated, and possibly the only pure thing that Klaus’ ever had in his entire life, the first real person he’d considered family. So Dave, and Diego, and the rest of his siblings can go wherever they want in the afterlife, though he has a sneaking suspicion it’ll be somewhere nice.

But Klaus, he’ll be following Ben.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” He asks.

“You know the answer to that.”

He’s got an apology to form and a hell of a lot of thinking to do before he reaches out to Diego.

But right now Klaus can’t help but do yet _another_ selfish thing, only with Ben’s blessing does he let his hand light up. It’s soothing when he can feel slim fingers thread through his, and they stay there until sunlight dribbles through the blinds.

“Thank you.” Ben’s whisper barely registers but Klaus hears and he knows the exact words he wants to say, and if he can’t confess them to one brother then he can sure as hell do it for this one.

“Love you Ben.”

“Love you too.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the massive delay in getting this chapter out, and also for extending the length of this fic again, but that's just how this fic rolls :)


	5. Chapter 5

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ask me again Benny, maybe this’ll be the time I say yes.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Would you look at that, still fucking no.” Klaus’ grin feels brittle and crumbles far too quickly.

Ben scoffs. “You can’t keep avoiding it.”

“I’m allergic to these heart to hearts.”

“You’re allergic to being an adult.”

Klaus is almost tempted to throw his empty coffee mug at the patronising little shit, but then he imagines the women watching him from behind the counter might finally work up the nerve to ask him to leave and that’ll fuck up his list.

He’s been steadily working through all of the romcom clichés, looking for that spark of inspiration to help him decide. At this point he’s practically living in one of those overly chirpy films- just trade the chirpy best friend for a dead brother. So far today he’s managed to stare pensively out of the window clutching a drink and dressed in an outfit suitable for deep reflection.

Even the weather playing along, lightening and rain lashing down to match Klaus’ mood.

He’s been putting a lot onto this one because the next involves travelling to the nearest beach and walking mournfully along the shoreline in an oversized shawl and that seems like a lot of effort.

The thing is he realises that he keeps referring to the end and it’s not a quantifiable goal, he doesn’t have a set date he can magically feel better. Maybe that’s his problem. Without the Umbrella Academy, or the drugs, or the threat of humanities extinction, hanging relentlessly over his head then what does he do now, what’s his plan.

Klaus doesn’t know how to fix this, he’s never had to do something like it, the whole of his life leading up to now he’s coasted by on the knowledge that if he hurt somebody then it’s easy to smother the pain with enough drugs that it’s no longer a concern.

With Dave, well they never fucking argued. Would’ve been a bit stupid really, why fight with the person you loved when each breath felt borrowed.

But with Diego it’s different.

When they’ve argued in the past it’s never been personal, neither of them have gone for the throat, never tried to inflict real damage. Now Klaus isn’t sure what to do.

Still isn’t sure when he meets Allison an hour later in the department store that she insisted on. She looks beautiful as she always does, if he were a shallower person, insecure in that way, he would probably feel envious of her, instead her glow makes him feel warm for the first time in twelve days. Not that he’s been counting.

“Hello darling.” He plasters a lazy smile on his face.

Allison reaches out to hug him, gets so far as touching his bare arm before hissing, “Shit Klaus, you’re freezing.”

“It’s the company I keep.”

“Asshole.” Ben doesn’t look away from an impeccably dressed mannequin.

Allison composes herself quickly, media training clearly kicking in. “How’re you doing?”

What a loaded question Klaus thinks, he answers with a simple shrug and one of his own. “So why are we here?”

“I was thinking that I needed a few essentials and couldn’t think of anyone better to give me advice.” She gestures in the direction of the makeup counters and Klaus has to give it to her, she’s trying.

“She does know,” Ben observes dryly, “that you normally look like a drowned raccoon.”

Klaus ignores him as Allison determinedly loops her arms through his, a tiny flinch all she gives in recognition of his temperature before he allows her to lead him, walking together instead of trailing behind like he used to.

Some time between weighing up mascara and different palates of eye shadow Klaus is watching his sister signing pictures with a flourish and he realises that although the attention is on her, she never hides him. Taking a moment each time to introduce him to her fans and they’re all so sweet and giddy in the face of their idol that they treat him with equal excitement.

“You don’t have to keep doing that.” He says after his famous sister finishes with the fourth group of young girls.

Allison stares at him for a moment, confusion scrunching over her beautiful face. “Why wouldn’t I, you’re my brother?”

Klaus freezes, thinks of the past decade, every single time that he avoided his family, never gave them a chance to approach him, assigned each a portion of his insecurities and wrote them off. It’s not all on him, they’ve all messed up over the years, but he can’t deny that he hasn’t played a part in that.

Something old and unbelievably toxic untangles from his ribcage and he’s sure the grin he gives her is about to split his face in half.

“Yeah. Yeah I am.”

 

* * *

 

“You’ve got company.” Ben announces as Klaus juggles too many bags in one hand and his keys in the other, swearing softly when he almost drops half of the former.

“Pleasant?” And despite the sudden rush of fear in his chest, there’s this electrifying awareness crackling through his body, because even though he hasn’t put the words together yet, if Diego really is in there… Then he’ll fucking drag them out and force them into something cohesive to give his brother.

“Dictionary definition? Probably not.”

Klaus’ fingers drum anxiously against his palm for a moment before he steps in to his apartment and immediately scowls. “You’re not the brother I want.”

Five looks up from the book he’s reading. “The sentiments mutual Klaus, however some of us like to put aside our personal preferences and behave like appropriately.”

 _Prick_.

“Why’re you here?” Ben asks and Klaus relays with an added expletive.

“You’re needed.” From the displeased smile the words must come out bitterer than they sound.

Klaus dumps his bags on the table before throwing himself down on the couch and crossing his ankles, waits for Five to continue and when it’s clear that he won’t without encouragement Klaus decides to be the bigger - _ha_ \- man. “What can I, the useless number Four, possibly do for the mighty number Five.”

Frustratingly his brother doesn’t bite, deprives Klaus of a decent argument, although since the other night he’s lost the urge for them.

“Luther is going to engage in a particularly imbecilic activity tomorrow night.” Considering what half of the Academy’s been up to recently Klaus can only imagine the kind of things One plans to get up to.

“How is that anything new? He’s a big boy, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“I’m inclined to agree, but I’d be happier knowing that he had assistance. It’s not in anyone’s best interest to send two idiots without supervision.”

“Two?” Klaus can feel the weight settle in his stomach and he doesn’t need to hear the confirmation Five’s giving him, the backwards compliment hidden under the shiver rippling along his skin. “Why aren’t you going?”

“I have far more important things that need my attention.”

“The real reason?”

“Vanya wants to _educate_ him about a musical that he missed out on.” Ben chirps up.

“So you can spy on them? Shady morals asshole.”

“No, she tells me about these things.”

Klaus ignores the formidable assassin as he tries to interrupt. “Since when do you hang out with Vanya?”

Ben’s face brightens, a lot. “Since she left a note on her mirror for me saying that she’d love the company when she practices in the evenings.”

“So that’s where you keep disappearing off to.” Klaus muses, he’s genuinely happy about it, that Vanya’s giving Ben this small, beautiful gift that he doubts she even realises how much it means to Six.

“What’s Ben talking about?” Five scowls.

“Apparently little V’s going to…” Klaus trails off as Five’s face closes down and the flicker of pain in those blue eyes is gone in a flash, but he still caught it. The idea of teasing Five vanishes instantaneously, because he knows that look. The weak, vulnerable, terrified gaze of someone so vastly out of their depths and he may be a bastard but he isn’t cruel enough to prod that sore. “I’ll go.”

Five gives no outwards reaction but his lexicon abandoning him is pretty telling. “Right, well, that’s… good. I’ll tell them to pick you up.”

Klaus has this momentary impulse to reach out and hug his brother and it must read in his expression because all he gets is a ‘don’t you dare’ and Five’s gone in a dazzling flash of blue.

 

* * *

 

“Why’re you wearing Diego’s sweater?” Ben asks as Klaus jogs down the stairwell.

“Too much?” He fumbles to roll the sleeves back, at least enough that his hands aren’t hidden beneath the material.

His brother takes a moment to think, “If you’re trying to make a half-assed statement then probably not.”

“I’m going to say something to him when we come back.” Klaus ignores the sceptical look Ben flashes him. “I am.”

“For someone who talks so much you’re not the best at actually saying anything Klaus.” Ben says in warning.

Klaus hesitates, knows it’s a bad idea, a message that Diego might not like and Ben’s right. But Klaus is a connoisseur of bad ideas and half-assed statements so he carries on, head held high, bans himself from thinking about it long enough that he might lose his mind over everything. “I’ll just wing it then.”

Ben groans obnoxiously as they go out onto the street. “Even worse.”

Klaus almost flips him off but it’s not worth the effort, not when his stomachs already knotted and taut. The insistent throb of a freeze burn is getting worse again and he thinks it might have to do with the spirits milling about or he’s noticing them more at night when the living are sparse.

He’s just coming to the street corner where he’s meant to be meeting the two assholes when Klaus hears his name mentioned and he’s pulling up, flattening against a building as if it’ll hide him from sight, though from the furious conversation it’s not surprising that neither of them heard his approach. Arguing in the middle of the street, even if it was nearly two in the morning, and everyone had the nerve to call him careless.

“You need to be careful.”

“Fuck off Luther.”

“I’m serious, we all love Klaus-”

“You sure about that?”

“Don’t be a bastard, we do, but this situations messing you up.”

Something deep, _deep_ , in Klaus’ chest clenches tight and sharp as he eavesdrops. He’s well aware of his shortcomings, of how fucking awful he’s been to Diego, the pain that he’s causing. Yet hearing it from Luther’s mouth so bluntly, that _hurts_.

“What we do is none of your business.”

“I’m only trying to help, Klaus isn’t the same person anymore, it’s not his fault, but I don’t think you can make him better, he needs real help.”

Klaus’ about to storm around that corner and tell Luther exactly where he can shove his concern, that coursing river in his gut is chipping away at his control and he’s about to let it loose when Diego continues, voice painfully soft.

“How many times did we ignore Klaus when Dad took him away for his _special_ training?”

“What’s that got to do with this?” Confusion bleeds through into Luther’s voice.

“I knew what Dad was doing, so did you. Maybe not all of it, but enough that we let it happen to save our asses.”

 _Shit _,__  Klaus wishes he could see Luther’s face right now.

Diego’s on a roll apparently. “Okay then, how many times did Klaus try to protect us? Or didn’t you notice? Because I did.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“When Five was forced to jump in front of us, over and over again, until he threw up, Klaus was the one who pretended to cry to get Dads attention, he didn’t stop even when he was dragged away and Five was allowed to finish early. Or how about all of the times I stuttered in interviews, couldn’t stop despite Dad’s threats, and Klaus would take over, didn’t fucking matter that he’d get punished for it at home.”

“Diego-”

“ _Shut up!_ Because he helped you and Allison as well, all of the times one of your little mission plans went to shit, who took the blame in the debrief. I’m pretty sure it was Klaus. And how many times do you think he covered for you guys, when you were trying to be sneaky?”

“I didn’t know-”

“Klaus was always trying to look after us in his own fucked up way and we ignored him. Fuck Luther, none of us even realised he’d been kidnapped! The best attention he’s ever had was from a guy fifty years ago in the middle of a war, I mean what does that say about our so called family?”

“That we’re terrible.” Luther sounds so unbelievably sad.

“Do you wanna know the worst bit? He doesn’t hold a fucking thing against us, not one single thing. So if Klaus needs time, or whatever, then he can have it. And if he needs to lash out then he can damn well do it, because he deserves to, and we all owe it to let him. ”

Diego’s defending him, in the open, in the fucking street. Where anybody could hear them, but he’s still doing it, and Klaus is so close to crying, nobodies ever spoken favourably about him like that. He doesn’t deserve it, they’ve all done things for one another, and also because Klaus can’t think of it as keeping a tally, not for this. If there was one then at the very least Ben would beat them all by a country mile.

The world feels like it’s shifted upside-down and it’s possibly the worst time ever to have the dazzling realisation that he _really_ fucking loves Diego.

Okay, maybe he already knew that, but it’s the first time he’s acknowledged it, so that counts for something.

Luther rudely interrupts Klaus’ revelation. “But you still argued with him?”

“Yeah, well, I’m a prick.” Diego sighs.

“True.” Klaus thinks with the slightest touch of adoration, and Luther says bluntly.

Before this can go on any longer Klaus makes a deliberately loud shuffling noise, he wants to see Diego _now _.__  No more waiting, walking with what he’s sure is a smooth glide until he’s turning the corner and there he is. To their credit he wouldn’t have known anything was amiss unless he’d heard it, now with the way his eyes lock onto Diego standing in front of a car that’s not his but looks big enough to fit their broad brother.

For a moment Klaus wonders if it’s all cyclical, his life, his mistakes, drugs and love and death and loss. If this time he can keep his head above water long enough, hold tight enough until his bones ache so when everything’s done he won’t be left alone anymore. Not that he can blame anyone else, he’s looking at Diego and realising for the first time that he can build something from the mess of his life. He doesn’t have to do it on his own.

While he’s having this inner monologue and staring at Two the silence holds for a stretch of time that goes from awkward to downright uncomfortable but Klaus doesn’t know what to say now he’s fucking here, not after hearing that. In the end Ben grows exasperated enough to take over, nudges Klaus into repeating. “So what’re we doing Luther?”

One makes a genuine effort to look to where Klaus points as he answers. “We followed up on the lead Klaus gave us and we’re hoping to find something else that can help us tonight.”

Ben frowns and Klaus just about manages to ignore the way his pulse picks up at the thought that he might find another Connor, ruining the fact that Diego’s watching him with wide eyes. “Five should have warned us, do you want to leave Klaus?”

Being given an option is rare and thoughtful enough that he manages to swallow, shake his head and pull out a cheap smile as he gesture towards the car. “Lead the way gentlemen.”

For reasons that should be obvious Klaus truly thought that Luther would call shotgun, but the unwieldy man stiffly folds himself into the back seat and before Klaus can join him Ben slides into the small gap left behind, leaving him perched upfront with nowhere to hide.

“You’re squashing Ben.” He gripes into the mirror to cover the discomfort.

“Really?” Luther grunts but he still moves over.

All things considered Klaus thinks that it could be worse. He’s aware of every movement Diego makes, he can fucking smell him of all things and it’s a desperate state of affairs that he would probably sacrifice a hand to be able to crawl across the console into Diego’s lap and wrap himself around that familiar warmth. Instead he sits bolt upright, still attached hands folded in his lap to stop them shaking and trying to ignore the tentative observations One keeps offering.

In his defence he makes it a good five minutes through Luther’s small talk before he snaps.

“Keep this up and I’m rolling out of the car.”

“We’re still moving.” Luther says.

“Like that’s ever stopped me. Would you like a demonstration?” He glances out of the window, and yeah, he can definitely make it at this speed.

“Klaus… are you serious?”

“Of course he is.” Diego’s grinning for a split second and Klaus is joining in, before they both remember at the same time that everything’s fucked.

How hard is it to say sorry, it’s a one syllable, five letter fucking word, it’s not really that difficult to say. He’s managed to give it to Diego before and after earlier it’s not the only word that he wants to use. So he makes a quick plan, chat to some spirits, help find a lead, give a heartfelt apology to Diego, then have super happy make up sex. Klaus doesn’t want to brag but he thinks it may be the best plan ever conceived.

He’s ironing out the creases and maybe just a little bit stuck in fantasizing it when he realises that they’ve stopped and when he peers out of the window it’s like they’ve pulled up on the set of a budget Hollywood set, complete with a group of warehouses that yield too many dark spots and casts a foreboding tint to the night.

“Well this is ominous.” Ben remarks, leaning close enough his chin should be resting on Klaus’ shoulder.

“Only a lot.” Klaus hums at him, trying to work out where they are, not that he’s ever been good with places. He’s lived in this city all of his life and aside from the street outside of the mansion and then his apartment, he’s fucking useless at recalling places, relying on Ben to guide him more than any sense of direction. He can’t remember observing anything on the drive here and it makes him feel uncomfortable at the thought of asking, admitting that he’s really that useless.

Ben looks almost as wary as Klaus feels and he tries to give him a reassuring smile as he clambers out after Luther, caught instead when he turns and Diego’s standing there, watching him carefully. He doesn’t get a chance to use any of the words he’s tried to piece together because as always number One has to be a fool.

“Is he really going to break it open like that?” Ben cocks his head to the side, disapproval radiating from him in waves powerful enough that Klaus thinks Luther should really be able to feel it.

Luther steps forward and just before he reaches for the door handle Klaus barges past him, dropping into a crouch so he can pull out the lock pick set he’s had since he first left the mansion. It’s embarrassing to admit but the tools are probably the most valuable items he’s owned.

“It’s like they want people to know we were here.” Ben chides.

“Fucking geniuses.” He grumbles as he feels rather than listens while he works.

“I mean how haven’t they been caught… Oh, Five.”

“Five.” Klaus agrees.

Ignoring the questions from behind him as he fiddles, it’s a little satisfying to here the tumbler fall and then he’s pulling the sleeve of Diego’s sweater over his hand and swinging the door open.

“Tadah.” At Luther’s confusion he can’t help but mockingly pat his ginormous arm. “Come on big guy, close your mouth.”

“When did you learn that?”

“Good trick to know when you need somewhere warm to sleep.” _Ah, shit._  They both look at him with that borderline pitying gaze. He fucking hates it. “I’m only messing with you, I just wanted to break into places to steal booze and it was the one thing old Reggie never bothered to teach me.”

Frustratingly neither of them look convinced.

Klaus lets his fearless leader march in ahead of him, if only because he’s far too beautiful to get shot quite frankly. He lets Diego go next simply because he can ogle his ass, or maybe he can’t cope with the low hum that’s echoing up through his feet and prickling spots of anxiety in his head, needs a moment to compose himself before he follows them.

They’re in an office space, small and cramped, meticulously neat for what Klaus is assuming must be criminal activity. Neither One nor Two seem to have any interest, as they pass through Klaus can hear this hum growing louder with each step, a buzzing drone like he’s standing by a hornets nest.

“Do you hear that?” He turns to Diego.

“No, I can’t hear anything.”

_Oh for fuck sake._

Ben presses close to his back, “Klaus, I can feel-”

“I know.”

It’s going to be bad, Klaus isn’t naïve as he jimmies the next door open, he just doesn’t consider that it might be _this_ bad.

This time he doesn’t wait for Luther to lead, ignoring the warning hissed out from Diego while he storms into what Klaus can only assume is the main section of the warehouse. Pulling up short, feet planting to the ground as a primal instinct screams at him to run. It’s filled with crates and machinery and would probably seem fucking normal if it weren’t for the spirits filling every available inch of space.

There’s so many of them. He counts a dozen, then another, then another before he gives up.

“Who the hell are you searching for?” He whispers faintly.

There’s a pair of matching frowns as he turns to look at them, trusting Ben at his back to let him know if anyone moves.

“There’s gotta be a hundred bodies here.”

Diego’s approaching and Klaus shakes his head, not trusting what he might do if Two touches him right now.

“We’ve been searching for evidence on this gang that’s involved with trafficking.”

_More like mass murder._

Klaus bites out a curse under his breath before turning back to look at the crowd, the wailing, writhing mass of spirits that clamour for his attention. Tries to see faces, people, human fucking beings but it feels impossible when they’re all screaming too loudly for him to focus. Tries again, looks further, fails until right at the very end, familiarity cracking him over the head with a sickening blow.

_No. Not you. You got away._

He can wish it a thousand different ways but it’s her. The girl. Older, bloodier, still undeniably her. She doesn’t have his boots anymore, feet bare once again and _fuck_ she’s beautiful, lips shining with lipstick and blood, and she’s fucking _dead_.

The warehouse is suddenly devoid of air, Klaus can’t get any no matter how hard he tries to drag it in, might pass out if not for Ben reaching and taking his hand, doesn’t flinch away when Klaus lights his entire fucking arm up in his panic.

He doesn’t want to hear their stories, the things that one human can do to another, each deed will fill his head up, weigh his soul down with cruelty and pain.

And they’re screaming louder, begging and crying now they know he’s here, someone that can hear them and the noise is terrifying, a wave of death that crashes over him until he can barely keep his legs underneath him.

If Klaus ever sees that girl on her bicycle again he knows he’ll only have two words to give her. _Fuck you _.__

Diego’s on his other side, gripping his fingers tight enough that he can feel his bones protest  Luther’s paw comes to rest against his back and it’s grounding, being held down between his brothers.

“How many are there?” Diego asks him, voice a low, rough edge that Klaus bludgeons his sense against until he draws in air.

“A lot.”

It’s all he can manage right now with the way he can feel the spirits draw him in, pulling at the loop of power he’s circulating through Ben’s arm, greedy fingers prying as it recedes under the tenuous control Klaus still holds.

Ben sounds strained when Klaus finally lets him loose. “I can go and-”

“-See what you can find.”

Ben nods once before being swallowed up by the sheer mass of bodies, Luther says something that Klaus doesn’t quite catch before he slopes off to do whatever it is he came for. He’s concentrating on turning his ragged panting into steady inhalations when he realises that there’s still a living person anchoring him.

“I’m fine.” Klaus isn’t sure if he’s reassuring Diego or himself.

“Okay.” There’s nothing else said and Klaus wants to lean into Diego’s side so he does, lets out a sound that can only be described as a whine when an arm comes around his shoulders and pulls him closer.

“Can Ben go around without you?” Diego eventually asks.

“Do you honestly think that he spends all of his time fuckin’ about with me?” He doesn’t get a reply, treated instead to the gentle circle Diego’s thumb presses through his sweater. “He’s a picky shit most of the time, won’t do anything he doesn’t want to.”

Which is kind of mean, Klaus can’t really count how many times Ben’s saved his ass by scoping out situations.

“Could you ask any ghost to do it?” It occurs to him then that Diego’s trying to distract him and he’s pathetically grateful.

“Never thought about it, probably, I guess. But I can trust what Ben says.”

He’d used them in the A Shau Valley, even when it was hard at one point to distinguish between the living and the dead, but it’d helped to know what direction the spirits were pouring in from, gave him some sense of direction of where to aim.

The amount of times his gift had helped keep the 173rd alive was staggering, one of the few times in his life that Klaus had felt useful, wanted. _Shit_ , thinking about it now was kind of awful, that he’d done something of worth, only to revert straight back into old habits. It’s a cop out to blame it on losing Dave, a dishonour even, this is entirely Klaus’ fault. He can mock Luther and Diego all he wants but at least they’re out there trying to help people.

Which he should be also be doing, finding a way to do something with all of these spirits, gain information about whatever sick fucks carved some of them up so badly.

“I missed you.” Is what he ends up saying.

“Klaus I-”

In unison everyone single head around them cracks to the side and Klaus knows they’re not alone, at the same time Ben forms in front of him, mouth opening to warn them as gunfire explodes through the warehouse.

One second he’s standing, the next Klaus feels his entire body lifting as he’s shoved hard enough that he crashes to the ground behind a stack of crates, head bouncing off of the concrete. There’s blood in his mouth, colours popping sparks in his vision and Klaus can’t breathe for a moment even when his hands trying to feel for Diego.

Instinct finally has him rolling to his knees only to be knocked back down by Luther’s large bulk as the giant bastard appears at his side, pressing his back behind the meagre cover they have. The sound of gunshots is louder than his screaming heart, but not by much and he’s frantically looking through the spirits until he finally sees Diego scrambling to find cover that he stupidly sacrificed for Klaus and if only Klaus can shove Luther off of him he can go to-

Diego’s body jerks to the side, hard and fast, like he’s taken a hit, like he’s been fucking shot. Blood sprays into the air and Klaus’ ears are ringing, everything dropping away into the distance as Diego tumbles back and he can’t fucking tell if it’s a deliberate move or if he’s fallen.

He’s still, eerily so, and Luther’s swearing a long reel of explicits, arms tightening around Klaus’ body as he tries to charge forward. “Stay down.” Luther hisses in his ear, and Klaus was a soldier, he can recognise an order when he hears one.

But he doesn’t give a fuck about Luther’s command.

Not when he sees Diego pushing up looking dazed, blood leaking steadily down his side and there’s a scrape along his temple, streaking a vicious line above his scar. Relief hits so hard that Klaus can feel it fill his lungs with an hysterical bubble of laughter and his chest heaves against Luther’s restraint.

“Let go.” He whispers.

“We need Five.” Luther’s doesn't hear him, trying to reach something in his pocket.

Out of all of them who has the most experience under fire? Klaus has seen men far more terrifying than these gangsters and he will be fucked if they take Diego away from him.

Not when he still hasn’t told Diego he’s sorry.

The thing is people die every single day, Klaus knows this, it’s a reality that he’s been forced to accept since before he could walk or talk. Everyone lives, everyone dies, some sooner than others and after Dave he’s been sure that he shouldn’t be _able_ to feel a fear so powerful it destroys him, nobody should have to feel like this, should have to watch the man they love die.

He coils tight, pulling all of his muscles together until they’re granite and sandstone, looks for his opening. Feels more than sees Ben as glass shatters somewhere to his side and his brother gives a violent twist of a smile as he reaches out to take Klaus’ hand, shining brighter and brighter until there’s no distinction between where one of them begins and the other ends.

“Let’s do this.” Ben rolls his shoulders back and the fury in his eyes gives Klaus strength, enough to twist out from underneath Luther and together Four and Six surge forward.

Klaus has seen death many times, knows the precise moment when a body breaks down, how long a heart has left to beat and he takes it in with a savage glee as Ben tears the fucking world apart. Cracks running through his veins as he gives everything to Ben, more and more and more until he’s swaying as he moves, feet heavy and unwieldy as the Horror slices and tears and ruins. Then he realises…

Even with Ben they aren’t going to make it in time.

_Diego would have rolled to safety if he hadn’t pushed Klaus out of the way._

Ben’s moving with a blistering speed but there’s a limit to what he - the Horror - can do, what Klaus can do. His brother falters, because Klaus falters, stumbles against one of the crates and there’s blood pouring from his nose, running in his mouth and it’s so cold that he’s choking on it. More men, more guns, more fucking bullets and some minute part of Klaus’ brain marvels at that.

Diego’s looking right at him as he ducks down again belt fresh out of knives, chest heaving and pawing at the blood blocking his vision, Klaus can see him open his mouth and it’s shaped like an apology that Klaus doesn’t have the room for right now but he’s forced to take anyway.

_I’m sorry._

Two words shatter him. In a way that Klaus didn’t know he could still be shattered, that he had something to be rent apart by warm brown eyes and a heart whose beat he’s saved for the day he’s alone.

_Thump._

There’s a whistling in his ears and Klaus isn’t transported to another night where gunfire tore apart his life, he’s very much here. This is worse. He’s knows it’s coming.

He’s going to watch Diego’s blood spill and he’s not going to survive it.

_Thump._

Glassy eyes look him over and Klaus knows what to do. The sheet of ice spider webs as he smashes against it, the river rising with each _thump_ until it’s a tsunami raging to be unleashed. 

They wanted revenge and he’s going to give it to them.

_Thump._

These insignificant monsters are trying to take everything away from Klaus and looking at their furious faces as bullets slice past him, he realises that it’s very easy to take it back.

Luther’s yelling, grasping for his arm and then falling back, clutching his hand and Klaus is so very cold as he moves into the open, a frisson running from him to the spirits and back again. He’s the ice that never reaches the sun and he lights up like a glacier under the aurora borealis, he’s avoided this for so long and it’s futile, this is his to control, his true potential.

Klaus yields to the pulsating power that roils and roars in his blood, ancient and deep. And he bends it to his will. Lifts his hand, raises a clenched fist, holds it for one magical breath of time as every being turns towards him. Klaus looses a quiet breath and every single spirit burns to life at the uncurling of his fingers.

He crashes through them like a tempest.

They really are cyclical, never learning from their mistakes and Klaus doesn’t want to do it anymore, watches detached as everything dies. He can hear them, through the spirits outside of the warehouse following the remaining humans fleeing into the night. Klaus is faster. Races after them in bodies that aren’t his own and he can feel every crack of bone and spray of blood that paints his soul black. He can see it now so very clearly, there’s so many spirits, an infinite resource, he can protect his family forever. Protect everyone. He can purge all of the filth out of the world and they’ll be left in peace.

_Thump._

Five flashes in front of him, pyjama clad, hair ruffled, expression furious and then… he looks horrified. Klaus wants him to feel safe, reaches out to reassure the boy that Klaus will look after him, they all will. But the bodies are turning towards Five, tumbling over one another towards him and Luther’s grabbing Five’s arm and throwing him away from Klaus. Away from the spirits and then it’s clear.

Klaus has no control.

He’s made himself this open source of power, of energy and life and he can’t seal it away.

Ben will pull him out of this, will help him power through this unstoppable, uncontainable force. But Ben’s not here, those malicious spirits are turning towards him, and Klaus realises that Six is protecting Diego, shielding him from the carnage that Klaus has summoned.

And Ben’s… flickering, in and out of sight. Not just his corporeal form, but his spirits shuddering and rippling and Klaus is screaming once more.

_Don’t you fucking dare._

What an arrogant notion to think he could control this. He’s going to bring about the next apocalypse, and Five won’t do him the favour of raising the gun he’s clutching in his hands.

**_Thump._ **

The heartbeat he's followed like a war drum is no longer in his head but _there_ , thundering through the bodies until he’s being pressed against searing hot flesh and it’s pounding through his frozen shell. Klaus’ name is as powerful as any words of devotion, in some ways, more so, because only Diego can utter it in such a way to make it mean everything.

Klaus takes that wonderful sound and funnels it until he’s coming back together so fast he can almost hear the neurons snapping under the pressure. His fingertips throb and then heat presses up through his wrists, along his arms, coating his spine and setting everything on fire. The spirits fade and he’s sending them away, from here to wherever they need to end up, the broken girl isn’t in sight but Klaus hasn’t got the strength to find her, barely enough to finally cut the connection relaying between them all and still hold Ben to him.

But Diego’s with him and Klaus has never felt more real than when Two meets his bleary gaze, not entirely sure who’s keeping who upright in that moment. Not entirely caring either, not when it’s cutting off the lit fuse that’s sizzling away ready to explode, he inhales slowly and constructs a dam to shove the excess energy sticking like molasses behind, uses Diego’s presence to hammer it down until there’s only a steady swell thrumming along.

Then all he has to do is fold every inch of himself into Diego, take the equally desperate embrace he receives. And not cry, though the last thing he mostly fails on.

“I leave you alone for one fucking night.” Five seethes and Klaus blinks until he takes in the small assassin berating a man thrice his height.

“We-”

“You call yourself a leader and you let this happen.”

“-Didn’t-”

“Klaus is over there opening the gates of hell and what were you doing Luther?”

Tuning it out to try and force the last scraps of his strength into holding up one increasingly lax brother and making enough space for another to waver against his free arm takes a precedent Klaus decides. “You okay Ben?”

Ben nods. Seems incapable of doing much else as he presses as close as can be possible to Klaus’ side, and although Klaus hasn’t got much left in the tank so to speak - he’s running on fucking fumes - there will always be enough to transfer into Ben. He’d tear his very cells apart to make it so and the shine of Six’s form is painfully reassuring as it solidifies.

“Don’t think you can hide anymore Benny. Sorry.”

Ben doesn’t respond, instead his head lolls against Klaus’ shoulder and it’s hysterical really, that he’s the one his brothers are relying on right now. But it’s also not when he can feel a wetness slick between them and it forces him into action, leading them towards the door, around… corpses is probably to politest way to describe it and Klaus keeps the bile down with a straining force.

“Boys,” surprisingly Five shuts up, immediately and that’s worrying in itself, “we need to go.”

Bright eyes survey the mismatched image they make and Five sighs, looking disconcertingly ancient and painfully young at the same time. “Luther get them back to the Academy and we’ll deal with this there.”

He doesn’t hear Luther’s acquiescence, only feels him take the brunt of Diego’s weight and helps Klaus shift him outside, thank fuck because Klaus doesn’t think he could keep Ben shimmering next to him and settle Diego in the back seat quite so gently as Luther manages.

“Where’s Five?” Klaus slides in close and tries to rearrange Diego so that he can draw an arm around his now shivering body. Grateful that Luther manages to get into the front seat and by some miracle they probably haven’t earned One starts the car and they’re moving.

“He says he’s taking care of the evidence, he’ll catch up with us at home.” Luther’s surprisingly a quick driver considering he can’t properly move his arms in such a confined space.

Diego’s eyes keep fluttering and between Academy training and the armies, Klaus knows that the wounds not a fatal one, not even close, but the blood he can feel seeping through Diego’s torn sleeve has him tensing.

Luther swerves before correcting himself. “Can you make it back to your place if I drop you off near as I can? I don’t want to waste time going out of the way.”

Klaus hasn’t thought about it, not really had the time to all fucking things considered and it’s hitting him in one go. His aversion great enough that even Luther knows better than to insist he comes back, before he can begin to sort through the emotional rush Diego’s voice rasps weakly in his ear.

“I’m f-f-fine, stuh-staying with Klaus”

There’s one place on earth that Klaus doesn’t want to go, a place that makes his skin bubble and his heart snap in an unsteady rhythm.

_Thump._

But his apartment is the worst place to take someone with a bullet wound in their arm, it’s far to dingy and dirty and not in anyway sufficiently equipped. Diego’s the most stubborn bastard Klaus has ever come across and there’s no doubt in his mind that Two would stumble until he bled out on the street if they tried to separate from each other right now.

Not that there’s a chance he’s letting an inch come between them right now.

_Thump._

“Don’t be stupid Diego, we need to get you home.”

It’s a testament to just how argumentative Two can be that Klaus can feel him rallying, slowly but still trying.

“Shh, I’m coming with you, stop whining baby.” He chastises gently as Diego’s clammy head rests in the crook of his shoulder.

So he meant it as an insult, _really_ , but then Diego’s looking up at him with those big brown eyes and if there wasn’t blood steadily oozing down his arm Klaus is pretty sure Two would be blushing.

Of all the times to find out such a thing, now seems one of the worst.

But he’s sure as fuck going to tuck that little detail away for future use.

“Klaus are you sure?” Luther peers into the mirror at him.

“Am I the one with the fucking stutter? No, now hurry the fuck up before I turn your furry ass into a coat and wear it.”

“You c-could m-m-make m-more th-than one.” Diego huffs into Klaus’ neck.

“You’re both assholes.” Luther grunts as he takes a corner far too fucking quickly and not quickly enough.

Klaus doesn’t bother to reply and he’s distracted with pushing his fingers through the sweat slick hair sticking to Diego’s forehead, his other hand firmly grasped in Ben’s equally cold one.

Exhaustion tinges his vision when they finally stop, makes dragging his body out of the back seat infinitely harder than it should be and he does it with a willpower that he doesn’t know how he calls upon.

“Ben!” Vanya yelps from the doorway.

_He’s still visible._

“Luther what on earth…”

Vanya’s voice trails off with a little gasp and Klaus would roll his eyes if it wasn’t that she’s instantly there, taking up the slack on Klaus’ free side, aiding him as he and Luther half carry Diego through the doors and he only has a half mind to send a half-assed prayer that nobody sees them.

Allison’s waiting for them at the base of the staircase, eyes widening as they head straight past her, Pogo ambling into sight and before Klaus can react Diego’s coughing out what sounds distinctly like a ‘fuck off’ as they go into his bedroom.

“Don’t be mean.” Vanya chides as she steps back to let Luther haul Two onto the bed, Klaus moves aside but doesn’t relent the bruising grip he has on Diego’s hand.

“He lied t-to you.”

Vanya tuts with a level of fondness that feels wrong, Klaus realises that they’ve had a conversation about this and there’s no longer the outright hatred on Diego’s side, no resentment that once lay between them.

_He’s missed so much._

He doesn’t get time to say anything thankfully when Five appears in a shimmering blast of blue and he brings with him a sense of control, like everything’s alright now Five’s here, a reliable presence to depend on.

Though the scowl he gives them all shows the feelings not mutual. “Was anyone intending to see if our brother has a bullet in his arm or are we all standing around for the fun of it.”

Klaus has been shot before, a month into the war and he can remember how it felt to have a bullet lodged between bone and muscle, trapped under layers of skin. The initial pain flaring out to be replaced with this grinding, desperate need to claw the intrusion free, and only Dave’s sweet face relieved it long enough for the medics to remove the small piece of metal.

It has him running his free hand soothingly across the small of Diego’s back, trying to put his narrow frame in the way of his siblings stares in a futile bid to give him some privacy as Five briskly swipes one of the many knives cluttering up the room and simply cuts Diego’s sleeve away.

“It doesn’t look too deep,” Five concludes after a heavy pause, brows knitting together as he flashes away for a half minute before returning with arms full of medical supplies, “I can take it out in here, but it probably won’t be pleasant for you.”

“Sound g-great.” Diego’s voice only hitches slightly.

Klaus wants that fucking bullet out now. “Shouldn’t we go to the infirmary-”

“Grace is in there.” Five says nothing else and Klaus thinks it must be one of those things he needs more context for. “Now if I could be given some space to work.”

The dismissal is clear enough that finally everyone filters out except for Ben propped in a corner of the room and one other obstinate bastard.

“Master Klaus, please allow me to assist-”

“Fuck off Pogo.”

Is this the worst possible time to throw down with one of their childhood guardians? Yes.

Is Klaus willing to do it if the fucker comes any closer and has Diego shifting with a pained huff? Without a shadow of a fucking doubt.

He wouldn’t even need Ben’s help.

“Klaus,” Five reprimands and if it weren’t for Diego’s flinch at the needle currently filling with whatever liquid painkillers the assassin’s picked up, then Klaus might be tempted to continue. As it is, there’s someone more important to focus on and Pogo seems to take the hint, leaving with as much solemnity as he can probably manage.

“P-prick.”

Klaus gives a weak laugh, doesn’t regret it when he receives an equally weak smile, although the way Five’s brows are furrowed as he inspects the wound doesn’t lend itself towards reassurance.

“Diego it’ll only be for a moment, but I need to give you a sedative. I can’t have you passing out or moving while I do this.”

Klaus can feel the strain in those powerful biceps and before his stupid fucking idiot can do something harmful his palm cups Diego’s jaw and he’s swallowing the surprised gasp Two makes with his lips.

He can feel the jolt Diego gives as Five presses the needle in but he doesn’t pull away, Klaus rewards him for a second longer, stopping only because he wouldn’t put it past the pain stricken vigilante to get a boner despite the fucked up situation.

Whatever Five’s given him works faster than Klaus expects, Diego’s mostly out of it by the time Five begins playing nurse, extracting the bullet with a practised hand, dropping it into a small bag and tucking it away. Stitches perfectly spaced and even, meticulous in a way only the assassin seems to pull off and the pressure in Klaus’ chest eases with each flash of the needle until it’s finally connected the split flesh together.

“You’re a genius Five.” He chokes out around the relief, eyes wet for a fraction of a second before he blinks them away.

“I don’t need you to confirm that.” Five gives him a smirk as he helps ease Diego’s body back into the bed and Klaus realises that his brothers still in his pyjama’s, blood streaking over the sleeves even where they’re shoved above his elbows and his hairs a mess, sticking up in random tufts. “Do you need some help?”

Strangely there’s something in Klaus’ head demanding privacy now of all times, and he thinks it’s partially due to the fact Diego would hate for anyone to see him in such a vulnerable state, bar maybe Grace.

“We’ll be fine.”

“I’m going to talk to the others, I think that I dealt with everything.”

“Tell me tomorrow?”

Five gives a weary nod as he steps towards the door and Klaus’ attention snags on the little bottle sitting on the side table. Fixates is probably the best word to use, barely hearing Ben stirring up from the floor behind him as he drifts towards it.

“Klaus don’t.”

Nobody would blame him after tonight would they, morphine's a strong one but he can come off it easy enough and it’s the twisted reasoning his minds trying to put together that has Klaus snatching the bottle up and racing to catch up with his brother in the hallway.

“Take this Five.” Klaus is the slightest bit proud his fingers only shake a little as he holds the bottle out.

“Ah” Five blinks in surprise, that this isn’t a test of some kind brings a comfort to Klaus, and also a non-spirit related chill because Five is never forgetful, he’s meticulous in every aspect and to see him in any way that contradicts that isn’t pleasant.

“Good for you.” Five almost smiles as he walks away and Klaus realises that he’s no longer jumping, clearly at the end of his tether and another layer of guilt settles over the night.

Though when he returns all of Klaus’ ever shortening patience is tested when he finds Diego with his legs propped over the side of the bed, panting softly.

“He can’t hear me.” Ben winces in tandem with their knife wielding brother when the idiot tries to reach out towards Klaus.

“Good thing I’m here then.” Clearly he’s hit the bottom of the well if Ben’s no longer corporal.

“You were g-gone.” If he wasn’t as exhausted it might be funny to hear the indignant accusation but he hasn’t got it in him to find much humour right now. “Had to f-find you.”

“I’m not going anywhere idiot, now lie the fuck down.”

Diego’s sags immediately at the confirmation and it take little to guide him onto his back, there’s a fond reminiscence as Klaus crouches to help ease his boots off. He’s clinical in undressing Two, changing him first and then stealing an oversized shirt to use for himself. They could both desperately do with a shower but now whatever adrenalines been kicking him along is filtering out he’s unbelievably heavy so washing will have to wait. Ben drifts away at one point and Klaus doesn’t panic when he can feel the thread of him glowing gold and stronger by the minute.

He’s about to settle on the floor in the hopes that the uncomfortable position will force him to stay awake so he can watch over Diego when he hears a quiet. “You’re here.”

“Where else would I go.” He answers truthfully. “It’s only for one night.”

“You care.” Diego half hums, head resting back against the pillow, exhaustion weighing him down and he’s holding his uninjured arm out for Klaus even as the strain has him wincing.

“And you’re making me regret it.” Klaus grouches as he gives in and carefully slots himself against Diego’s side.

“Sorry you omnipotent b-b-brat.”

“Big words for a guy that couldn’t take his own boots off.” Though he’s smiling, ending up half wrapped around Diego in an awkward embrace that has the latter grumbling even as he presses in. “Shut up, if you get shot then you have to be little spoon, that’s the rules.”

“I can live with that.”

Sometime in the night when Diego’s asleep, Klaus watching each rise and fall of his chest he realises all at once and with little fanfare, that he could be happy here. He could live with this, with Diego and for the first time he doesn’t feel the jagged pain in his chest as he curls closer around his brother.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There isn't an excuse for how long this took to write so all I'm going to do is throw this out and then run and hide <3


	6. Chapter 6

The funny thing about one night, Klaus quickly learns, is that it’s never just one night.

He’s still in the torture mansion, still hating every square inch of the place and still unable to leave despite numerous attempts at insisting otherwise. It’s not that he feels guilty about the situation, as if there’s a debt between Diego and him, that’s not how they work.

He isn’t going anywhere.

Klaus is no longer running and the decision’s lifted so much weight off of his shoulders it’s startling and new and he feels free for the first real time since he came back to the present.

He also really needs a coffee.

It’s hard to make the effort in moving when Diego whines against his back as he tries to extricate himself from the octopus style embrace. Even harder when he can feel the wince travel up his spine, transferred from Diego’s broad body to his and he allows himself to be reeled back in for a few more minutes before he puts his foot down.

“I need-”

“To go back to sleep.” Diego mumbles, voice heavy with sleep and only slightly adorable.

Doesn’t stop Klaus from carefully wiggling until he’s out of the bed, hushing Diego before he can start complaining properly and tracking his way out of the door and down the corridor. He marches with a purpose, determined not to linger too long, head held high enough he doesn’t catch the fucked up graphic cards still detailing the walls.

_Gouge. Kick. Punch._

Wonderful messages to brain wash a child with.

He’s gotten good at this over the last few days, ducking past anything that churns bile and acid and makes him want to scream. He flits past most of the mansion with that logic but it’s working and he’s still here each night, fighting for Diego in the only way he knows how.

The kitchen’s miserably empty without Grace there, her absence sucks what little life this house used to have from it and there wasn’t enough of that to go around in the first place. He goes through the motions of pulling Five’s not so secret stash out of the far left cupboard and putting the kettle on to boil.

“And here we have a rare sighting of the elusive Klaus Hargreeves.” Allison’s voice echoes from the doorway.

“I’m like bigfoot but with far better hair.” He huffs out, turns and regrets it when he spots the trio standing there.

He’s not been avoiding them, more avoiding the barrage of questions that he knows they must be itching to ask. Kudos for restraining themselves from cornering him in Diego’s room, although he isn’t sure if its respect or the fact that they’ve all been nicked too many times while growing up barging into the Kraken’s room without knocking.

Five appears by his elbow, snatches the half empty tin of coffee back away but not before Klaus has filled a mug with an ample helping. “Touch my things again and I’ll put that spoon through your eye.”

“Good luck reaching that high.”

He’s saved from the very real possibility when Allison subtly takes a position that puts him in the direct middle of a sibling triangle, Luther shifting uneasily in place. “Klaus, we need to talk.”

“I’m all ears.”

He’s not. But this conversation has to be had and then they can all move on.

“Luther told me about what happened, all of it and I… how are you feeling?”

It’s not a false question so he gives her a simple: “Peachy.”

Ben flickers slowly into place from wherever he’s been hiding, drifting until he’s relaxing against Klaus’ arm, form not yet solid enough to feel the warmth of another body, but having him there is worth more than any living soul can offer Klaus. Well apart from the one upstairs.

Luther’s still fidgeting and it’s far too noticeable on a man of his size. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Neither did I big guy.” Well he did, but not to that extent. “Is that all?”

Nobody moves and it’s starting to look more than a little ominous when Five clicks his tongue in frustration. “Oh for- Klaus are you stable? Do we have anything to worry about?”

Five and his blunt attitude, if there’s anything in life he can rely on then it’s his brothers inability to engage in meaningless conversation. Klaus turns to lift the whistling kettle off of the stove and makes them wait a half minute while he pours, shifting through the possible answers for one he likes. Klaus can cope without sugar or milk so he ignores the fact that his tongue should scald from the boiling water and takes a sip, responses veering between theatrical reassurance and curt dismissal. “Wouldn’t you know if there was, I can’t imagine you’d be able to miss our average Joe standing over there.”

Luther, bless his paranoid little heart, glances around so quickly it should probably strain a neck muscle. Obviously he can’t see the apoplectic suited banker that’s crept in behind them, there’s a rather gruesome line across his neck that tells Klaus all he needs to know as he sends the spirit away.

_Look at that perfect control Sir._

Quite fitting that he manages it now when Reginald’s not nearly enough feet down in the ground.

Nobody moves and Klaus doesn’t think they’re stupid or cruel enough to realise how suffocating it feels to be under the semblance of being trapped. Pent up energy has his fingers drumming along the edge of his mug and he knows that they have every right to be concerned, he’s been given two days of peace and that’s more than he should have been allowed in the first place.

“Breathe Klaus.” Ben cautions.

His siblings aren’t Sir. He’s not trapped.

“It’s understandable if it’s difficult to control Klaus, look at what happened to Vanya.” Allison tries to mean well, it just doesn’t hit the mark though.

“Well if I hear a little voice in my head telling me to start a Kong style rampage through the city I’ll call you guys first.”

Luther clearly doesn’t appreciate the levity he tries to inject into this little intervention of theirs. “This isn’t funny Klaus, what you did was dangerous.”

_Really?_

Allison groans. “I don’t think we need the reminder Luther.”

“You didn’t see what happened to those people.”

_Fucking really?!_

“Do you mean the men shooting at you that he was put in the middle of.” Five counters. “The mess that I’m still cleaning up?”

“All I know is that we just need to-”

“What Luther,” Klaus says quietly, muscles coiling taut and that pulsing in his gut is starting up an insistent drum, “what do we need to do with me?”

“Okay this is getting out of hand, can we all calm down a minute.” Allison tries to interrupt but Klaus can see One pulling into that stubborn, defensive shell, revving up to say something undoubtedly stupid.

_Enough._

“Are you going to throw me in that cell like you did to Vanya?” There. He’s finally thrown that tiny shard of insecurity out into the air and it’s the worst time to do so, but he’s committed now. “Cos I’m warning you, I’ll go down dirty.”

Ben whistles low but stays by Klaus’ side and its the show of solidarity as his hand flickers through Klaus’ that has gives him the courage to stare One straight in the eye. Not that he ends up needing it, Luther looks stricken, all of the air rushing out of him as he takes a long step back, palms raising up in placation.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” Klaus must look as incredulous as he feels because Luther continues. “It was the worst mistake of my life, but I’ve learnt from it, and I’ll never let that happen again.”

Allison and Five are watching him warily and Klaus deflates a little, the hurt in Luther’s eyes sneaks around his anger and pierces it in the back until he’s left hollow.

“I think,” Five says, “that we should maybe leave it for today.”

Allison nods, uses her best parental smile on him. “I don’t want to be that person, but if you feel-”

“Murderous? You’ll be the first to know.”

There’s something ironic about the fact that this interaction has him fizzling, having to force everything back under that makeshift dam. Klaus wonders whether that’s how Vanya felt when her powers went off like a geyser, makes a little note in his head to check in with her. Right now though? He wants nothing more than to be back in Diego’s room and so he does just that, using the small gap Luther’s recoil gave him to dart past them. Ignoring the aborted jerk of Allison’s hand as if she wants to reach out for him and he feels a little spasm of guilt that he shoves aside.

“Is it always like that? The noise and the… bodies?” Luther asks hesitantly, like he doesn’t really want to hear the answer.

Klaus doesn’t look back at them as he pauses in the doorway. “That was particularly bad, and it’s not always…” He trails off before finally being honest. “Every single day.”

Maybe this time it’s okay to let them be sensitive he thinks, Luther’s sharp inhalation isn’t as satisfying as he’d like it to be, more like it reinforces the tired resignation that’s thumping through Klaus’ body.

“I think that told them.” Ben says without a speck of judgement as Klaus definitely doesn’t flee. More moves with an accelerated pace.

“Thanks for being there.”

“Always, though everyone seems incapable of talking like adults I think they might have had a point about-”

“My powers.” Klaus heaves a tired sigh and tries not to project his frustration at Ben that everyone’s right about him, again.

“Think about it. Speak with Vanya and Five, they’re going to know best.” Ben’s hazy around the edges and Klaus recognises that he’s leaving. It’s a voluntary action so he doesn’t descend into panic, merely waves a free hand and waits until Six is gone before he continues back along the corridor.

Diego’s not moved thankfully although he sits up far too fucking quickly for Klaus’ liking. “If you tear those stitches I’ll do them myself and trust me I learnt in a shitty medical tent in the A Shau valley so they won’t be good.”

He gets a quiet huff in return, then a curious look comes over Diego’s face and it takes a minute for Klaus to realise that he never offers up any information about that time, not to anyone and he suddenly wants to change that. If only to honour the friends he made and the people he couldn’t stand, they all deserve to be remembered and it’d probably do him some good to revisit things in a controlled environment. He sinks back into his previous spot and holds his coffee at a safe distance from Diego’s suspiciously twitching fingers, gives a warning hum that most definitely falls on deaf ears.

“One question a day.”

Diego doesn’t ask what he means, probably too busy being surprised if his expression is anything to go off of. There’s a protracted silence that isn’t uncomfortable and Klaus prepares himself for any number of things, it’s all fair game considering the shit he’s put Two through.

“Did you miss us?”

Not the worst, not the best and Klaus pieces together his answer then deconstructs it into it’s most basic form so he doesn’t spend the rest of the day trying to psychoanalyse himself.

“Not in the beginning, I was confused and scared and lost. Mostly annoyed that nobody came looking for me in that shitty motel.” He shushes Diego when he tries to interrupt, doesn’t think either of them are ready to go into details about that night just yet. “Then it all got complicated and I thought I might stay, but even then I missed you every single day.”

Diego’s unreadable, silent and Klaus feels tension start to line his body, abruptly feeling the urge to flee before he quashes it, places his cooling drink on the side to remove the risk of ruining the sheets and then draws himself against Two’s good arm.

Klaus says nothing else, neither does Diego and that’s okay. They’re together and trying in the messed up way they know best, there isn’t much more that he can ask than that.

 

* * *

 

Diego, for a man that considers his body a so called temple, has taken to bed rest surprisingly well. There’s an argument to be made that Klaus is just that good of a caretaker and though he’s heavily leaning towards that there’s also a small voice incessantly nagging in his ear that Two’s finally resting up after far too long of dealing with Klaus and his _issues_.

He doesn’t linger on either reason truthfully, it’s only going to weigh him down in guilt that won’t get them anywhere. Instead he focuses on now, here, Diego’s sleep lax face and the peaceful expression he hasn’t seen in years, doubts really that anyone’s seen in even longer.

They’ve not spoken much, well of anything important, Diego delicately skips past such things with a finesse that Klaus realises Two’s developed in response to his behaviour. It’s as if he’s skirting around a land mine, expecting an explosion at every corner and Klaus doesn’t know when he stopped preparing to issue rejection at the slightest sign of affection. The idea has a pang of guilt echoing through him once again, a default over the last few days, and he wishes he could find some way to inform Diego that rejections most certainly not coming, never will again.

Instead he settles for lazily sifting his fingers through ruffled hair, savouring the hum of appreciation even though Two’s been unconscious for hours now. It’s a thing that he’s learnt this week, a soft touch that has the formidable Kraken sagging loose limbed and Klaus can only feel regret that it’s taken this long for him to bother learning.

Love, Klaus thinks with a wry smile, is really just an emotional clusterfuck.

Much the same could be said about him however and if Diego wasn’t in the middle of a disgustingly endearing snuffle Klaus might of accidentally woken him up and blurted the sentiment out there and then. He takes the sign to gently untangle himself and slip out of the room for a well needed stretch, aimlessly wandering along the corridors without giving it much thought of where he’s going.

He really can’t come to understand how any of his siblings can walk down these corridors and not feel the pain infused in the air, how he coped with it before is beyond him. The only thing Klaus can compare it to is a migraine, relentlessly dealing out pain, but manageable, incapable of debilitating him for long even if in the moment it feels like it’ll never end. Klaus is aware that he’s the only one that can see the spirits but it still doesn’t explain how any of them can pass the spot where Ben collapsed in a blood coated mess after one too many missions. One of the never ending rooms where he found Luther, silver lines that he couldn’t cover quick enough tracking down his face, barely nine and a murderer in the eyes of the law.

Klaus fucking hates this house.

Vanya’s appearance directly outside of the place Klaus subconsciously drifted towards is not a mere coincidence he thinks when he almost slams into her. Neither is Ben, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, trailing in her wake.

So I’m not the only one that feels like raiding daddy’s office.” He wants to do nothing of the sort, but neither of them need to know that he’s scrambling for a reason nobody asked for.

“Never gave it a thought,” Vanya looks at the double doors, “why are you going in there?”

Ben sighs with far more exaggeration than Klaus thinks is strictly needed. “Please don’t steal anything, you caused enough trouble doing that last time.”

Klaus is starting to get fed up with his siblings confusion when he flips Ben off. “I’m just curious. There might be something… exciting in there.” Even to his own ears he sounds flat and dull.

“Five’s already gone through everything, I doubt you’ll find anything worthwhile.”

It doesn’t stop her from following him inside, nor from sifting through the contents of what once seemed a formidable position of power, now it just seems like the chair of an asshole with a penchant for abusing children.

Klaus wants to set it on fucking fire and dance over the ashes.

He settles for perusing the contents of the desk before moving on to the desk before the window, books still piled high although he can recognise the signs of Five’s interference, outlines in the dust. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, even less sure why Vanya’s going through the motions with him, there won’t be anything to gain from such an action but he feels like it’s an idea worth pursuing if not that it gives a purpose to his anger.

An emotion once so foreign, a feeling that he circled around with great ease before it carved a place for itself, settled in the hollow of his bones the night that everything fell apart. When he’s with Diego, or Ben, or Vanya, when they’re out there, _living_ , not tethered to this monstrosity masquerading as a home it’s been easy to slip into something more gentle, at the very least indifference. But stuck here, now, Klaus can’t recall any of it, the delicate feelings he’s cultivated with everyone’s help, at times against his own wishes, feel impermanent in this place.

It’s around about the moment when he thinks that this is why he’ll relapse, why he’ll crumble again, that Klaus acknowledges that he’ll have to leave soon. And surprisingly he knows innately that there isn’t an option for him to slip out in the night anymore, he can’t leave Diego behind, any of them really, but it’s Diego he needs, _wants_ , to be near.

_Love._

_Clusterfuck._

Fucking, rotting hell. Klaus contains a laugh at his own ridiculousness, not out of any degree of self control but by the accidental unearthing of a slim Manila folder with his name printed in one corner.

Klaus is certain that once upon a time he’d have imploded at this match to his kerosene soaked tinder, now he only scans through the loose sheets of paper inside with a mild detachment. Insults and cruelty coming from the one person undoubtedly residing in the deepest depths of hell holds no weight in comparison with the familiar crackle of his spine where Ben presses against him.

“What’s that?” Six asks, curious face appearing in Klaus’ peripheral.

“Observations, from when I was twelve.”

“Looks like character assassinations.” Ben’s nose wrinkles as Klaus finds his and Vanya’s, flicks through them absently as if he’s actually going to find anything of worth inside. If so Five’s greedy little fingers would have been all over them, and in fact, as he’s about to say it aloud he spies the assassin’s name.

Vanya joins them before he thinks to cover her folder, and it’s not that Klaus thinks she’s unworthy or needs shielding from their fathers disdain, fuck knows she’s weathered it longer than most. It’s just that he’s aware of his hatred for the man in a way that he thinks nobody except maybe Five might understand. Vanya still calls Sir dad of all things, and quite frankly there’s a protective twang in Klaus’ chest that demands he prevents the bastards poison from spreading any further within his family. But if there’s anyone that understands how it feels to be kept out of the loop from well meaning idiots it’s him, and so Klaus holds the sheet down lower so his vertically challenged sister can read.

“Mediocre skill, hmm.” Vanya’s impossible to read when her face draws blank like that.

“Somebody with mediocre skill wouldn’t have made first chair.” Ben protests furiously and Klaus doesn’t have to fake the indignation when he tells her.

“Of course they wouldn’t, and definitely not without any discernible talent,” Vanya says, drawing to the highest her tiny stature allows, “well, would somebody with no discernible talent have almost ended the world. I think not.”

It’s a joke. A terrible one.

But it’s a _joke_ and Klaus is laughing so hard that he’s clutching the desk to stand upright, Ben joining him a second later.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing number Four. Fretful and morbid as you are.” Vanya chastises, voice so unbelievably different to the terror inducing pitch of their fathers that it only sets Klaus off again the moment he stops. “And you number Six, you may be fascinating but that’ll change if you keep hanging about with these disappointments.”

He’s invigorated by her performance, riding on a wave of energy, and yet somehow he ends up saying something completely out of left field. “What happened to Grace?”

Vanya smile vanishes, although there’s traces of it left behind in the crinkles and beautiful lines of her face. She pauses, fingers restless as if unconsciously searching for her violin and unmoored when they can’t find it. “She’s not… here, it’s like that saying, the lights are on but there isn’t anyone home right now. We can’t work out why, Five’s theory is that it’s something Dad programmed into her, a fail safe that had her degrading and even when Pogo bought her back she wasn’t the same. She doesn’t react to anything, it’s like she’s in this catatonic state all of the time. Five’s tried everything he can think of and it doesn’t work.”

Yet another thing that Five’s been trying to fix, guilt fizzles in Klaus stomach, amplifies when he thinks of Diego. Klaus is filled with a level of anger that’s exclusively reserved for his dead father, builds a barrier between it and the cold upsurge of power such a feeling inspires and concludes with a low sound that sounds a little too hurt for his liking.

There’s a patient silence in which he makes a decision. “Enough,” he catches a fucking splinter with how quickly he scrapes the papers together, “completely and utterly fuck this Vanya.”

“What’re you doing?” Despite her obvious confusion Seven’s copying him, though slower and with a lot more composure than Klaus can manage.

“Burning it, everything, setting all of his fucked up work on fire.”

His determination startles both of them, has him straightening defiantly to level them a look that he thinks might inspire confidence but possibly veers more towards unhinged. “Ben, you want yours done?”

Ben’s nose does this little scrunching thing, then he shrugs and holds up a hand, one that Klaus delightedly reaches out for. He peers over that imaginary dam for a trickle of power to light them up, can hear Vanya’s high little gasp when Six solidifies in front of them.

“Hi V.”

The desk actually shunts back with the force the pair exert as Vanya throws herself into Ben’s arms, eyes wet and Klaus realises that she never had the opportunity amongst the chaos of that night to simply hug her lost brother.

It’s moment that’s too tender for Klaus, he’s stepping back, drifting towards the centre of the room, suddenly desperate to give Ben the chance to finally speak with the unfettered privacy so long denied to him. It’s how he tunes out the whispers between them, the dazzling smile mirrored so that Klaus can’t tell who started or where it ends and instead draws towards the skitter of energy discharging out in the corridor.

“I should have known that you’d nose around here soon enough.” Five barely breaks stride as he spots Klaus’ head poking out of the office, if anything it’s like he’s expects this impetuous behaviour and it’s no longer enough to spark his ire. “What are you looking to steal this time?”

Nothing, not an accusation, if he didn’t know his brother so well Klaus might have been tempted it almost seemed like Five was teasing him. “Y’know the whole spring clean deal, well I’m thinking about taking it one step further.” Klaus withdraws back into the room, knows that Five will follow because he’s an equally nosy bugger. “Burn everything, in a controlled manner of course.”

“This isn’t even a fraction of his work.” Five drawls. _Asshole _.__  “How exactly do you plan to set a fire inside of our home.”

Klaus doesn’t hesitate. “On the roof dummy.”

Vanya hesitates, always waiting for a remonstration despite the monster literally slain by his own hand, and Klaus uncharacteristically wants to punch something at her reaction. But it gives room for Ben to step around her and Klaus can see the precise moment Five clocks onto him, the rigidity in his form dropping in an instant.

“Hi.”

If Klaus was to choose a greeting, the first in his undead life, it might have been a little more impressive than the two letters Ben chooses, however it spears through Five and consequently Klaus at the same time.

Ben’s here.

_He’s here._

There’s no death, no corpses, no spirits and fury and ice to distract the weary time traveller from this fact and Klaus has never seen anyone look so very young and painfully ancient at the same time. The stark difference in Five’s reaction is that he doesn’t rely on touch, taught himself not to out of necessity Klaus supposes, and so everything is cracked and open in those wide blue eyes in lieu of physical contact.

It’s too much. Klaus probably should have stayed in bed.

“We should find Allison and Luther.” Vanya’s voice cracks and there’s tears gathering again.

That’s a reunion Klaus does _not_ have the maturity to handle, he’s barely coping with this. Ben seems to agree, or he’s overwhelmed and needs to take this a sibling at a time. “I’m here to watch Klaus set his hair on fire.”

“Fuck off.” It’s an automatic reply and Klaus resumes his collection of probably what’s only a fraction of the shit Hargreeves collected. “Come with us?” He offers pointlessly.

Five abhors a waste of knowledge, no matter how it came about and Klaus knows this, expects nothing less from their uptight brother.

“This is ridiculous.” Five jumps, grabs his folder without checking the name, and storms out of the room without waiting for them to catch up and Klaus just catches the wreckage of his brothers control as he passes by.

“He always has to take over.” Klaus grouches without any venom, can barely hide his delight when Ben rolls his eyes and Vanya laughs in return as they hurry after their determined, self imposed leader.

_Ben’s here._

By the time they clamber up onto the roof Five’s already there, a genuine to fuck metal trash can in front of him, wearing an apathetic visage that’s too composed to be taken seriously. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“I’m a master of the incendiary arts I’ll have you know.” Klaus snorts.

“You set your sock drawer on fire.” Ben snarks, because he’s a snarker. But this time the others can hear, watch, as Klaus bickers and whines at the shitbird.

_Ben’s fucking here._

Five settles the issue with a deft hand and a bottle of lighter fuel that he refuses to tell them where the hell he was keeping it. Klaus doesn’t join the others in watching the flames devour a cruel remnant of their childhood, instead he finds himself staring at his siblings as they’re lit up in glowing flickers of colour.

They’ve all come to this place, unable to backtrack from the shaky ground they’ve stopped upon and Klaus finds his love where it once ran thin, cracked, ruined, is now this overwhelming force. An irrevocable piece that he chipped out for Dave is no longer fracturing the rest of him and it’s because of them, his family.

“That feels amazing.” Vanya sounds shocked at her own giddy behaviour.

“I can’t believe we did it.” Ben’s grins.

Five shakes his head. “I despair of you both.”

“Don’t pretend that you didn’t like it.” Vanya says.

“I’m not denying anything.”

“Klaus,” Ben reaches for him, very real fingers catching his, “you alright?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat, frustrated at the obstruction that’s making him light-headed, eyes blurring. “I feel good.”

Klaus is met with three smiling faces, well two and a teenagers scowl - which most definitely counts as a smile - and he wants to amend his previous statement.

He feels fucking incredible.

 

* * *

 

Allison, Luther and Ben’s reunion is every bit as wonderful, _painful_ , as Klaus imagined.

Peaceful, calm, gentle Ben moves with a fiery determination until he’s crashing into Luther’s broad frame, Allison barely a second behind as she joins in and there’s tears and emotions and everything’s too much for Klaus.

He leaves them to it, his dysfunctional family, and retreats to the safest place he has.

“You’re fucking cold.” Diego grumbles, though it doesn’t stop him from pulling Klaus closer, tucking his head a few inches shy of his wound and holding him close while he cries _._

_Love, a complete and utter clusterfuck._

 

* * *

 

Allison leaves for the weekend, safely aboard a plane heading for the court scheduled time with the daughter that none of them have ever met, and a haze falls over the academy, the lack of the only real (if they’re being honest) adult is unsettling.

Klaus is doing a rather fantastic job of remaining calm, of resisting the urge to vault out of one of the second story windows and escaping whenever it demands he listens. It probably helps that after a week of bed rest Diego insists on moving, at least so far as to let Klaus haul his heavy ass about the place. Which he does with no complaints primarily because when the memories snag and twist he can curl himself like a particularly beautiful vine across his brothers all too willing body until he feels anchored and safe.

But then Klaus fucks up.

It’s an accident.

Gravity and a lack of spatial awareness combining together to screw Klaus over because the holy one in the sky clearly thinks that he needs to be kept on his toes.

“This is bad.”

“Yeah.” Diego remarks from the chair that Klaus insisted he sit in lest those bloody stitches tear.

“Really fucking bad.”

“I agree.”

“I’m going to die.”

“More than likely.”

“You’re not helping shitbird.” Klaus snaps.

Diego gives him this grin that’s too much teeth and far too handsome for him to appreciate when the circumstances are this dire. “I wasn’t trying to help.”

“I was getting you a drink.”

No matter how Klaus looks at it these are going to be his last few minutes on this earthly plain, he can’t see an out and times being a traitorous bitch by refusing to slow down.

Dolores is judging him almost as much as he’s judging himself, her nose upturned where she sits regally in the armchair, Klaus’ upturned coffee mug beside her and the dark stain blotting across her blouse seems to defiantly spread even further while he watches.

“Motherfu- Diego what the hell are we gonna do?”

"Oh, hell no, I’m staying out of this, you've had a chance to be we for months now. _You’re_  screwed." Klaus imagines what might happen if he bludgeoned the smirking prick, though its tempered by the knowledge that his demise is near.

“I can change her, it’s only the shirt.”

“And when Five walks in while you’re taking Delores’ clothes off what do you think he’s going to do?” Luther pipes up from where he’s taken a seat to watch the last precious minutes of Klaus Hargreeves life.

To answer his question would require far fewer expletives than Klaus is capable of managing right now so he ignores the oaf and focuses his attention on his sweet-

“Don’t look at me.” Vanya says, disappearing back behind a pile of music sheets. “You should take responsibility for your actions.”

“You’re no longer my favourite.”

Diego laughs and for the first time Klaus feels a small shot of pleasure at the resulting hiss Two gives. “It’s not Vanya’s fault she doesn’t want to hide this from Five.”

“What are we hiding from Five?” Klaus’ spine snaps straight as a voice echoes from the entry hall.

Final resort. “Ben, my wonderful, amazing brother, you’ll help me right?”

“Nope.” Ben clicks his tongue, doggedly avoiding the glowing palm Klaus holds out hopefully, blood thirsty fuckers waiting for the chaos that’s about to ensue.

Diego chuckles as if he’s heard their brother, which, prick.

“You can always call those zombies up to help?” Luther offers. Prick.

His whole family are pricks.

 _Also _.__ “They’re not fucking zombies.”

Luther’s saved replying by the sharp breath Five takes and Klaus freezes like an animal caught in headlights. He’s prepared to flee as Five crosses the room with the bearing of a vengeful god and never has he believed those outlandish claims of his brothers more than now.

“I can explain Five.”

The silence that follows feels like being in the eye of a hurricane Klaus thinks, terribly still, death encroaching from every side and right now he’d very much prefer in the middle of one.

Especially when he sees the flash of a cruel smile as Five turns towards him.

“Run.”

Klaus runs.

 

* * *

 

“I’m dying.”

“Diego seriously.”

“I’m not going to make it.”

“ _Diego_.”

Klaus isn’t sure if he’s cut off at the realisation that he’s joking about such a thing, that the world isn’t ending (again) because of it, or if it’s Diego’s fingers catching in his hair and pulling until Klaus is pressed against his good side, mouth catching whatever words Klaus is about to come out with next.

Really, either way is good.

 

* * *

 

There’s something bright filling his cracks, it’s slow, dreadfully so, but it’s there and no matter how Klaus resents and wants it in equal measure it marches along at it’s own pace and all he can do is wait to see how he looks when it ends. He needs that thought on a day like this, an anniversary, a dark, vile day that if it weren’t for that shining lattice of gold he might not be able to endure.

It’s taken him a while to decide where he wants to go, the veterans plaza seems hollow, as good as he imagines it being it just doesn’t feel right mourning in a designated space, artificial given how they’d come together and then apart. He wants something quiet, unassuming, special, a representation of Dave as he had been.

In the end he finds the spot late in the evening, sun almost setting and it seems right that he comes to a stop in central park, a small copse that he can’t feel the presence of any other soul and that in itself is a blessing in a city this busy. It’s a poor substitute considering he has no idea where Dave’s buried, pathetic as he is Klaus didn’t think to look before today, caught up in everything and left woefully ill prepared when the date hit him like a blunt trauma.

This is the sort of place that he would have liked to have bought Dave on a date, spent the rest of his life creating snapshot moments to reminisce on in old age. The gouges of weariness and grief feel greater today, scabs torn off, leaving him open. Klaus thinks he gets it though, this is part of the process, the fault lines will always be there and it’s his job to heal them each time he grows weak. So he sits on the damp grass and hurts, embraces the pulsing ache that each memory unearths and tries to accept something that he’s been trying so desperately to ignore.

It’s a familiar tingle along his skin that announces the one person he doesn’t want to see right now, words stick and turn sour in his throat when he turns his head to snap and pulls up at an obnoxiously bright bouquet held aloft.

“I believe it’s customary to bring an offering to a person’s memorial when you attend.” Five says.

Klaus looks up at his scrappy brother and feels a surge of affection, one he knows the smaller boy would crucify him for if he stupidly expressed it and he doesn’t point out that this is nothing of the sort. Klaus isn’t organised or decent enough a human to think that far ahead. “Thought that was only if you knew the person.”

“He kept you alive.” Five cants his head as he crouches to place the flowers on the ground. “An insurmountable task considering how idiotic you are. That is enough for me to respect him.”

If he could snort around the sob choking his throat then Klaus still doesn’t think he would. Because Five’s serious, those world weary eyes look contemplative as they survey the spot Klaus’ chosen. “Have you said a prayer?”

No he hasn’t, another sign of his failings. “Dave was Jewish, I don’t know any Jewish prayers.”

“I thought so.”

_You failed him. Again._

Five interrupts Klaus’ inner torment, voice stilted, stumbling over words that are clearly foreign to him. It’s a few lines but it’s enough for him to know that what Five’s giving him, giving Dave.

When he realises that Klaus is staring, Five shrugs. “It’s the only Jewish blessing I know, I’m not entirely sure that it’s the correct one either, I tried to learn the whole of the Kel Maleh Rachamim but I didn’t have enough time.”

Five has the nerve to look genuinely disappointed with himself, like he hasn’t managed to do something that Klaus never even thought to attempt.

“Thank you.”

“We could try and learn it for next year?” Five shrugs nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal, but they both know it is.

“Please.”

“Although I’ve probably done all of this in the wrong order,” Five frowns, fingers rummaging in those damn schoolboy shorts and withdrawing with a small candle, “my research told me that you’re meant to light a Yahrzeit candle but I can’t remember at what point.”

Klaus honestly thought he’d pulled apart the toxic monster living in his chest but apparently it’s still there, enough that he finds it’s viscous tendrils forcing resentment out of a space that Klaus had no idea existed.

“I couldn’t have one fucking year.” He says, a bitter weight to each word that he doesn’t want to mean. “Not even that.”

Five just stares.

“I didn’t believe in god, or the afterlife before I went back and somehow I still thought that it’d be better to be nowhere with Dave, than be stuck here without him. That choice got taken away from me, I had to leave him behind and you’re here doing all of this and I don’t… understand.”

Five waits long enough that it’s clear Klaus hasn’t got anything else to say before he replies quietly. “I think I hated you after everything settled down.”

Klaus recoils, flinches harder than he should at the blunt statement.

“More than anyone else, Hargreeves aside, after everything that happened it felt ridiculous that you couldn’t try to at least put on a face like the rest of us.”

“I tried-”

“No you didn’t, don’t lie to me. You gave up on everything, on all of us and I hated you for it. If I could push through the pain then why couldn’t you Klaus.”

It’s an accusation that nobodies been brave enough to say and Klaus doesn’t have an answer for him, not prepared now of all days to think of one.

Five lets out a heavy exhalation and then he does something that’s equal parts terrifying and wonderful, he smiles a genuine, tired smile and it’s directed entirely at Klaus. “But they all gave up on you didn’t they, I read Vanya’s book, I’ve talked with Allison, heard the stories from Luther and listened to Diego’s incessant mooning. All of it tells me that you’re not innocent in this, but every last one of us broke down our family and me hating you made no sense. Then you went back in time and-”

“You were a callous fucker when I got back.” Klaus can’t help interrupting, one of the few moments in his life that he’s actively held onto the pain of.

Five ducks his head, jaw clenched tight before he continues. “I wasn’t in a stable mindset, the circumstances were dire and I acted rashly.”

It the closest thing to an admission of guilt that he’s probably going to get.

“But it did make me realise quite how badly we used to treat each other, the selfish way we only looked out for ourselves and I promised myself that I’d find a new method of helping my family.”

“Training with Vanya?” Klaus hazards a guess.

“That and helping Allison prepare with her lawyers for her court case to get partial custody for Claire. Luther’s been unwittingly receiving guidance in regards to his abysmal leadership skills and Diego… well he likes to throw knives at me while I mock him so that’s an equally beneficial relationship.”

Klaus nods slowly, almost impressed if he wasn’t afraid of hearing about himself. “And me?”

“You needed an antagonist, someone that infuriates and encourages you even if it’s for all of the wrong reasons. You may not have liked it but it was very much needed.”

There’s a low, wet laugh shaking his body and Klaus can’t help but love his brother so much in this moment that it constricts his lungs, seizes his heart and wrings it in a crushing grip. Much the same way he imagines the assassin would do if he ever dared to tell him. “Now?”

“Now? I don’t know. A long time ago we were close.”

“Yeah,” Klaus’ somehow smiling, can’t help it in the face of memories that feel far out of reach and must be worse for Five, “you were my friend.”

“I think,” Five settles down in the grass next to him, “I’d quite like to try that again.”

Klaus’ enmity with Five has been a reassuring blanket to wrap around himself, one that he’s hesitant to shed, nervous about drawing comfort from this new Five. The thing is he’s been angry at his brother for so long, ever since that day when he’d desperately tried to cauterise the wound that Dave’s death had torn open within him and all Five cared about was that damn briefcase.

Looking back with a clarity time has afforded him Klaus realises that he’s never taken the care to weigh up just how many years Five had walked through the apocalypse. How his brothers most likely stumbling along just the same as Klaus, only Five is doing the courtesy of holding a hand out.

_Don’t be a coward._

“I want to do better this time.” He admits.

“I’ve seen what we look like at our best and we can __all__ do a lot better.”

Klaus snorts before he can stop himself. “You’re not nearly as evil as you like to pretend.”

“Don’t delude yourself Klaus.” If Five’s smile is beautiful then the grin he gives is breathtaking. “Despite my best calculations, you’re still alive, and none of that would be possible if this man hadn’t saved you, held you together until we could get another shot and for that I find myself grateful to somebody that I never got to meet.”

Klaus sucks in a fast breath and it’s not enough to stop everything blurring. Five must be feeling benevolent, because Klaus’ being guided to rest his head on a too small shoulder and the sullen time traveller doesn’t comment when Klaus ruins his blazer with a lifetime worth of tears. Five only sits there, an old soul, weathering the storm until Klaus is finished and he doesn’t ask for anything more from Klaus than a silent bit of company.

When he has nothing more to give, heart too full of words that he doesn’t want to share with the world, Klaus takes the cheap lighter offered to him and brings it to the candle wick. Everything’s waving and shimmering in his eyes and there’s so many colours that it felt like Dave could be anywhere and everywhere.

 

* * *

 

Klaus is starting to feel like he’s getting ahead of himself, taking a leap forward and then immediately, desperately trying to turn back to more familiar ground before realising that maybe change isn’t all that bad. It’s why he’s perched half on the couch, shoulder rubbing companionably against Diego’s and attempting to join in with this tentative family gathering Allison’s arranged. Vanya’s the only one missing, but for the first time it’s not an exclusion that’s intentional, more that Seven’s rehearsing with a zealots obsession now that the countdown to her performance has fallen below the seventy two hour mark.

That he can hear the echo of her passion while they talk gives Klaus a relief that he doesn’t understand outside of knowing that his sisters chosen a temporary isolation, it’s not been forced upon her.

Most importantly though, in pride of place, damn near the centre of the room on a pedestal, Ben perches, legs drawn up so he can rest his head on his knees and fuck if he’s not patchy, iridescent in rippling waves as if he doesn’t know how to keep his form solid. But he’s fucking _here_. Ben’s here and he’s trying so it’s only fair that Klaus is here and trying.

_Look at how grown up we are._

Luther should probably also be commended for the personal growth that’s led from him smashing through delicate topics and instead waiting a whole thirty minutes before he trying to push the whole ‘Klaus you need to train before you end the world’ shpeal.

“I’m truly touched that you’re taking such an invested approach to my powers big guy, but I’m a-okay without the help.”

“And I’m just saying that training has a lot of benefits.” Luther pauses before altering his approach. “It would help keep you fit and healthy.”

Klaus refrains from pointing out that he’s probably in the best shape of his adult life all things considered, the first time he’s remained consistently sober, even in ‘Nam he’d drank himself silly whenever they were allowed loose for the night. He may not have the ropey muscles or stress born stamina from then, however it wouldn’t be arrogant to note that he’s mostly made up of lean, sharp lines. “I do enough exercise as it is, wouldn’t want to overdo it.”

“How much exercise can you possibly get?”  _Patronizing shit._

“Hours, and I mean _hours_ of it big guy.” He pointedly kicks his feet up until his legs are draped across Diego’s lap and nobody fucking gets it. They all peer at him curiously and Klaus can barely keep a straight face.

“Sex doesn’t count asshole.” Ben finally intones.

“Oh, fuck all then.”

Klaus can’t decided which he finds better, Luther’s spluttering, Allison laughter, or the shit eating grin on Diego’s face.

_Definitely the latter._

A rising crest of Vanya’s piece sparks a new course for their inane ramblings, one that Allison pounces on with a little too much enthusiasm. “Are any of you going to her concert?”

“I’d have thought it would have been you out of all of us.” Five’s frown deepens, Klaus thinks, though it could be that his face is finally feeling the pressure of displaying the infinite well of his disdain for the world.

“Not me, Diego?” Allison says.

“Don’t look at us.” Diego answers as if it’s becoming second nature that he and Klaus are in tandem. “Luther?”

 _Us _.__  Klaus is tempted to tease, to draw from Diego’s joke and turn it back on him, but fuck if he doesn’t like it a little too much. That and he’s started referring to the two of them as an _us_ as well and fuck, isn’t that something.

“All I know is that she could only book one seat in the end.” Luther informs them as if Klaus doesn’t know, which he supposes he shouldn’t.

Allison “Wait, if you’re not going, and neither are we, who’s she taking?”

Klaus decides against spoiling their fun as Allison shifts through romantic possibilities, catching the innocent expression on Ben’s face as his form shimmers before settling again. He’s doing well holding onto the steady thread of power that Klaus has left exposed for him to tap into when he needs it, despite Six’s weak protests. Ben just doesn’t seem to understand the joy that leaves Klaus breathless and weak kneed whenever he feels the draw, the knowledge that his brothers, well not exactly alive, but he’s corporal and it’s _enough_.

Honestly he doesn’t hear much else as the others ramble on, doesn’t need to, their lives are so intricately braided that despite everything they can all slot together in a haphazard, jagged mess. Klaus hasn’t given anything to this little group in a __long__  time, yet they don’t hold it against him, and yes there’s fault lines here as well, tension bracketing certain moments as a conversation swerves into still cracked and healing territory. But then they’re guided, or forcefully hammered into a neutral zone before they try again, a trial and error approach at being a family.

He’s shifting through that knowledge for days to come, worrying and prodding at any negative thoughts and for once trying to see the positives. The notion that things aren’t perfect, not even close, sticks with Klaus in a way that doesn’t overload his brain with nerves, something that resonates if only because it makes him feel like he isn’t a failure. He can even claim to be working on a ridiculously overdue talk that he needs to have with Diego, piecing together the slivers and fragments, focused in a way that his drug addled mind would never have been capable of.

“Klaus,” Ben’s voice draws him out of his thoughts in a way that little else can, “what do you think I should do?”

“About what?”

“Vanya’s concert, do I go tonight?”

_Tonight _?__

Klaus frowns, confused for a second before he realises once again he’s drifted absently through patches of time without the vaguest idea of how he ended up on the roof on his back, staring at the clouds. It might be a little worrying if not that he used to exchange weeks of concious thought for a high, he has no problem acknowledging a trait that he’s inherently had since a child.

Especially when he’s actually fucking done it. Pulled all of the manic thoughts and jumbled emotions into his figurative palm, proudly waiting for him to present to Diego when he’s ready. Well, when he garners the courage to sit them both down and act like an adult.

“Klaus.”

“Sorry, why wouldn’t you go?”

Ben shifts, actually shifts, as in his very real form moves in a nervous twitch and Klaus is a little caught up in watching him that he almost misses Six’s quiet confession. “I don’t think I can stay like this for so long.”

“Why does that matter- Oh.” Klaus almost laughs, resists only because Ben’s listened with a _mostly_ sympathetic ear to years of Klaus’ drama without being - repeat: _mostly_ \- judgemental. “She’ll still know that you’re there.”

“I know, it’s just…” Ben doesn’t trail off absently, he doesn’t hold himself to an impossible standard but now seems to be the time he breaks that record. “Shouldn’t somebody else go, give her some real support. At least Allison could clap for her.”

Klaus considers this for a whole second before he rejects it. “Or you could trust that Vanya wanted _you_ to come, not one of us.”

“But-”

“-Unless you’re saying that you know better than Vanya what she needs.”

“Low blow.” Ben says, but it seems to do the trick like Klaus hoped, a little reminder about the perils of disregarding each others wishes. “Fine, I’m being an idiot, I’ll go and be invisible around a bunch of smartly dressed people like this and pretend it’s normal.”

“Haven’t you tried changing clothes yet?” Klaus embarrassingly can’t say that he’s noticed Ben’s still in his jacket and jeans, it’s a staple of his brothers existence as far as he’s been concerned.

“I’ve never thought about it.”

Klaus shrugs off the loosely buttoned shirt of Diego’s he’d stolen and offers it up. Ben sighs as if he’s already certain that this is a pointless endeavour before trying it on, jacket immediately over the top like he’s worried it’ll vanish the second he stops paying attention.

“Great, now do a Caspar.”

Ben respectfully refrains from correcting Klaus’ terminology and it’s only the tiniest slacken in the cord between them that indicates Six disappearing to the normal eye. A split second later Klaus is grinning, wide and large at the comical expression spreading over his brothers face as he takes in his appearance.

“It came with me.”

Okay, Klaus can’t help the bubble of laughter that bursts out at the awe in Ben’s voice. “Do you know what this means?”

“What?”

“We’re going to spend some of dearest daddy’s money.” Frustratingly Ben looks nonplussed and Klaus tuts in amusement. “Just trust me for once.” Ben carefully removes Diego’s shirt before offering it back and Klaus is mildly surprised that the material feels no different for it’s little experiment. _Magic_.

“I always trust you Klaus.”

 

* * *

 

Klaus stirs between sleep at a gentle touch, a frost that coats his insides for a second before he drowsily notices Ben leaning back against the end of the bed, head tilted against the sheets, the unnatural shine explaining the pull.

“How was it?” he mumbles, eyes blindly searching in the dark, twisting slightly in Diego’s loose hold.

“Absolutely magical.” Ben breathes out with a happy sigh, three piece suit immaculate on his crouched frame.

“Good,” Klaus settles his head back down, free hand fumbling behind him until it’s caught in Six’s strong grip, “you staying?”

“Yeah, go to sleep Klaus.”

Klaus would argue that he wasn’t the one that was going around waking other people up, if he wasn’t already descending back into the tangle of a particularly pleasant dream.

 

* * *

 

It’s all about tying everything up, the loose ends he’s left for far too long that require his attention now he’s stable enough to give it. Five surprisingly agrees to help him, even in such a small manner, and Klaus tucks the scrap of bravery Ben’s inspired within him into a pocket of his mind for safekeeping.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Diego asks, thumb pressing over the inside of Klaus’ wrist.

The knee jerk reaction is to decline, the words are there, pressing against his tongue and it’s a conscious effort that has Klaus changing them. “Yeah. I would.”

“’Kay.” Diego nods, and that’s it. He’s coming and Klaus doesn’t have to do this alone. All he has to do is ask. “Five, can you manage-”

“If you try to question my abilities then I’ll drive that butterfly knife you keep under your pillow into your eye socket.” Five states, calmly. But also furiously. It’s an impressive talent reserved for the most obnoxious amongst their family.

Klaus doesn’t think his nerve can hold long enough for the pair of them to argue, so he presses a kiss to the scruff of Diego’s cheek. “C’mon, lets get this show on the road. Five holds out both hands and Klaus takes one, Diego mirroring his action. The disturbing squeeze of his limbs lasts for only a second before he’s landing barely balanced on a fire escape. “How do you do that without feeling sick? It’s awful.”

“Practice.” Five’s expression darkens for a moment and Klaus would apologise but a second later the assassin shakes his head. “Enough. Unless you need my assistance, I shall be waiting in the street. Come back out here when you’re ready.”

It’s one of the things Klaus has decided he likes most about his pint sized sibling, the ability to know when he’s needed and when to fuck off. He’s also knows, without a doubt, that Five’s already scoped out the apartment for threats. Klaus thinks it’s an innate part of his brother, the meticulous fashion in which he cares for them whilst still retaining the detached demeanour he seemed to cherish.

“You ready for this?” Diego asks, ignores how Five disappears in a blast of light.

_Concentrate._

Again an answer unfurls, and again Klaus changes it. “No. Not really. But it needs to be done and there’s no one else who can do it.”

Diego seems like he’s going to say something silly, or sarcastic, or just plain stupid. Instead he shuts his mouth, gives Klaus this narrow, appraising look before gesturing towards the window that on the outside, appears no different than the last time they were here.

 _Seriously _.__  Klaus thinks as the irregular thud of his heart speeds up, it’s out of his control but he isn’t panicking so that’s something. Seeing the police tape still hanging, the furniture upturned and a musty taste permeating the air he inhales is really quite unsettling. It’s easier for him to do this, sure, however it’s sad to think that the worlds chugging along outside and in here everything held in a macabre snapshot.

“Klaus?”

“I’m good, just thinking.”

“Do you need Ben?”

Klaus pictures Ben where he’d left him earlier, tucked between their sisters in the kitchen trying all of the flavours of ice cream he’s missed, and although he wants Ben for this, he doesn’t _need_ him. “No. I’ve got you.”

Diego blinks, grins and then instantly sobers. If they weren’t in this very space Klaus would laugh at the way his brothers brows knit together in concentration. Instead he _concentrates_ , focuses on the room he’s walking towards and tries to send reinforcements to his legs in case they make good on their promise to buckle. Although there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind what he’d find, Klaus is relieved in a finger tingling fashion when he spots the shock of blonde hair when it pokes free of the teddy mountain.

“Klaus?”

“Hey Connor.”

It’s a near identical parallel to that night as Klaus lowers himself into a criss cross position on the floor, and he’s relieved to see that the little boys happy to see him, that he remembers him. “How are you?”

Connor considers him carefully with an attention unique to a child, albeit one that’s a spirit. “Good. Nobodies been here since you left. Where have you been?”

He supposes it isn’t strange to feel guilt in these circumstances, and he does, a steady pulse of it that makes him realise he should have come sooner. “I’m sorry, it’s taken me a while to sort things out. But I have something to tell you.”

“What?”

Klaus knows, some instinctive part of him, a core piece of his being, tells him in no uncertain terms that he sent Connors mother away in that warehouse. He may not have seen her in the tempest he’d stupidly unleashed but, and he’s aware that it sounds crazy, he just _knows_ she’s gone. “I saw you’re mommy.”

It’s an instant change over the boy, and Klaus should have fucking realised it, but he isn’t expecting Connor to launch forward. Neither is he prepared for the part of his brain that decides to dredge up a dormant reaction at being rushed by something not of this world.

A childhood filled with hours of training, awareness of his surroundings and plain instinct have him rising with a grace he hasn’t been able to summon in years. The very same thing has him scrambling back without thought and it’s only when he can feel his adult body being supported by Diego’s reassuring arms that he stands properly.

Connor recedes, shrinks, folds himself inwards and it’s unnerving, like looking at himself from the outside all those years ago. It takes a second but then Klaus’ ears quit ringing and take in the litany of apologies Connor’s offering him.

“Klaus?” Diego’s still holding him, voice a low hum in his ear and while it’s unbelievably comforting, it’s also pathetic.

If he can’t help one fucking child then isn’t he proving Hargreeves right. He’s useless.

“It’s alright.” He steps away, resolutely taking a space back on the floor. “Can you give us a few minutes.”

Diego listens, footsteps fading into the background while Klaus tries to work out how the hell he’s going to handle this situation. For the first time in a while there’s a snarl in his stomach that craves something strong enough to blur the edges, take control away so that at the very least Klaus no longer has to take responsibility for his actions, his mistakes.

Which is about as cowardly as it can fucking get.

“Klaus?” Connor asks. Wide eyed, lost, relying on the only person in the world that can help him and it’s that reliance that eradicates the need and focuses him on the moment.

“Connor, I think it’s time for you to move on.”

Connor looks for a dreadful moment like he might decline. His little face turns from Klaus to his teddies and back again, over and over until finally he decides. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Relief punches air out of his lungs in a shuddering exhale.

“What’s it like?”

“Weird.” Klaus considers for a second, aware that he can’t give the most reassuring account. “You might see the girl with her bicycle again.”

Connor’s nose scrunches. “Was she nice? To you?”

“She hated me.” Klaus snorts before he can stop it, relief kicking in when Connor laughs. “But she’ll be able to help you find your mommy up there.” He pretty sure it’s accurate. Afterlife greeting protocols aren’t something that he can claim to be fluent in.

His brains distracting itself with the image of a welcoming committee when Connor draws his - limited - attention back to the present. “I’m ready.” The boy stands up, gives one mournful look around the room and nods to himself.

There’s nothing calculated in the way Klaus rises and takes Connor’s hands, it’s something instinctive that takes control of his limbs, lighting them both up in a kaleidoscope of colours and although he’s been winging it in regards to his powers for as long as he can remember, now it funnels through him in a smooth, confident motion.

If they were in a film this would be the moment when Connor would look up at him, cheeks stained with tears, and profess his gratitude with a lispy voice that would melt the hard lines still entrenched in Klaus’ heart. But this isn’t a film, and between the flow Klaus catches a smile, all teeth, murky eyes that glaze over and then Connor vanishes in a silent implosion that has Klaus crashing forwards, face first, to the floor.

 

* * *

 

“You took long enough.” Five observes drily.

“And you were meant to wait out on the street.” Klaus pads through the apartment, a little lightheaded still.

“It’s raining.”

“Bullshit.” Diego butts in from the living room. “He was worried about you.”

“I most certainly was not.” Five seethes at the accusation of compassion.

Klaus wants nothing more than to collapse into bed, pull the covers over his head and ignore the world for at least a week. While they’re out though…

“Five?”

“Where are we going now?” Five shoots him an assessing look and honestly it wouldn’t surprise Klaus if he found out that his brother was an android. Secretly analysing his biometrics and…

He’s distracting himself again.

“Klaus?”

The brave section of Klaus’ brain thwarts the cowardly part.

“I’ve got one more thing I need to do.”

 

* * *

 

“Honestly, and I mean complete and utter honesty please, was this place always so depressing?”

Diego casts a look around before answering. “No. Not entirely, it was just…”

Klaus doesn’t wait for his brother to compile a polite answer, instead choosing to focus on the peeling paint and cracked kitchen tiles, cataloguing everything. There’s a hole in the plaster where he’d passed out one night and cracked his head off the wall. If he goes into the bedroom he’ll find the screwed up blankets he’d made into a nest to hide from the world when everything became too much. There’s a coil sticking out of the couch’s upholstery that clearly wasn’t designed for a jacked up twink to dance on it with a dead sibling. There’s been a shift in how Klaus perceives the apartment, a break, even a short one, is all he’s needed to open his eyes.

His sanctuary is a fucking dump.

But it’s _his_ sanctuary and Klaus in the face of it’s, and by extension his, flaws cannot help the love he feels for the place.

“I bet you had a heart attack when you first came here.” He says, drifting through the room, looking for Cat although he doesn’t think the felines here. If he’s admitting difficult truths he might as well accept that he was that fucked up that he managed to unwittingly summon a spirit for company. She’ll probably be back though and Klaus is glad of it, strangely attached to his pet even if she isn’t strictly alive.

“You weren’t in the alley outside so that was a bonus.” Diego says, ignores Klaus’ self deprecating laugh as he watches him. “Though it wasn’t that much of an upgrade.”

“Hey.” Klaus protests half-heartedly. “It didn’t stop you from coming back.”

“It was a close call after... that.” Diego hums, tension drawing in his shoulders and Klaus could probably avoid this if he tried, however it’s not what he wants. They’re doing this, no putting it off any longer, he knew that returning would prompt something and really where else are they going to expose these scars.

Diego will still give him an out though, because he’s like that with Klaus. A stubborn asshole to the rest of the world, and a softer, gentler asshole when it’s just the two of them. One that deserves a long overdue apology.

“Do you mean the time I called your dead girlfriend a stupid bitch.”

Klaus is almost as thrown by how harsh it sounds coming out as Diego is. Cringing at his drug fuelled behaviour is nothing new, familiar even. This is different, he did it to be cruel, not out of necessity but a misguided attempt at self preservation and he needs Diego to know how much he’s regrets it.

“Yeah. That.” Diego says quietly. “But you were-”

“Don’t. Please don’t.” He doesn’t want excuses, he’s given himself enough of them over the years and at some point, Klaus reckons, they had to stop and you grew up.

“What do you want me to say Klaus?”

“Nothing. Unless you want to. I don’t know.” He ends up sitting at one end of the couch, Diego at the other and this is good. Feels less like one of them is about to run and more like they’re going to talk. “Actually I do, but sorry seems a bit lacking.”

Diego’s face is unreadable, jaw tight and shoulders tense. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s really fucking not. We can’t keep avoiding this Di, you must have something you want to say.” Klaus’ a little breathless, more from his own audacity than anything else.

They sit opposite each other in complete silence and this is almost worse, waiting, having no control over what’s about to happen. Younger Klaus wouldn’t have cared, would have deflected whatever Diego’s going to say with the notion that he simply doesn’t care. It’s difficult being an adult, having to deal with the consequences of his actions.

“I think,” Diego finally says, “that night was the first time in my life that I hated you a little bit.”

Klaus barks a sharp laugh, more to cover the painful fact that most of his siblings have hated him at one point or another. Not that he hasn’t done enough things worthy of being hated for. It’s just a shit thing to have to acknowledge.

“But then later, after everything came out, I thought about what happened to you and how fucking scared you must have been.”

“No excuses.”

“Shut up Klaus.” Diego sighs, hesitates to run a hand through his hair before continuing. “You know how it feels to have someone that you loved killed, and you said that shit.”

There’s no answers to that, none that can convey the guilt that’s simmering under his skin. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are. That’s not to say it’s okay, because that was fucked up Klaus, and I wasn’t going to try again, not for a long time, with you or the rest of them. Five was the one that changed my mind. He was determined to help you, told me to think about things before I cut ties with everyone.”

Five. Klaus shouldn’t be surprised at his brothers unending devotion to their family.

Diego won’t look him in the eye, but he smiles at the face Klaus is pulling and right now Klaus will take anything. “Yeah, I know it’s strange. Out of all of us he’s still the smartest. He made me sit and think about it from you’re point of view, how it must have felt to go through all of that and feel like you were alone the entire-”

“I didn’t feel alone.” Diego’s brow ticks up and Klaus adds: “Not all of the time.” It becomes clear after a weighted moment that Diego won’t continue until Klaus elaborates. “When I came back I couldn’t cope properly, I was going to leave you guys and disappear again.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because of you. Well, and the veteran bar. You came back for me.”

“That’s it?” Diego asks, incredulously. “That’s all it took for you to stay with us.”

“That’s it. Nobodies ever come back for me before.”

Diego swallows, is troubled, and Klaus didn’t mean for that, he meant it as a compliment, praise. He can’t tolerate the guilt in Two’s eyes, it doesn’t belong there and though he truly meant for this to be a cleansing experience, it’s not, it’s painful. Doesn’t mean it shouldn’t happen, but he’s shuffling forward until he’s curling around his brothers frame, sinking into the embrace they both need.

“How bad was it?” Diego’s words are muffled in Klaus’ neck, and it’s not a question that needs clarifying.

Klaus coils, unintentionally withdraws and it’s a testament to how well Diego knows him by now that his brother only holds him tighter, pressing the pieces together when Klaus starts fragmenting. His voice comes out rough as gravel and as hard as steel. “What they were doing wasn’t the worst bit. Kind of like an extreme night out.” He laughs bitterly, cuts it off at the wince echoing between them. “It was knowing that nobody was coming.”

“I’m sorry,” Diego’s hands are going to leave bruises on his arms and Klaus needs them, “I never realised you were gone.”

The thing is, when they were younger, at a time when Ben was dead and Five was gone, Diego was _everything _.__  All Klaus wanted was to follow a half step behind his brother, if it wasn’t for his addiction and Diego’s desire to leave the academy he would have happily done so for the rest of his life. Where other kids had parents to hold their worlds together, he had Diego, and despite all that’d happened between them over the years, for some fucked up reason, Klaus had thought his brother was going to be the one to save him.

Now he’s aware that it’s impossible to make one person the centre of your universe and come out unscathed. It didn’t work with Diego, or Dave, and he’s come back around in a full swing with no intention of making the same mistake. This time he wants to do better. He needs to be better, rely on himself before allowing others to step forward to take the pressure. “I shouldn’t have said… well any of the things I did.”

“So we’ve both been shit, doesn’t matter who went first then.”

“Yeah. It does.”

Diego’s silent, and Klaus wants nothing more than to pause this moment before he has to ask the serious question. He can feel it burning at the back of his throat, incapable of releasing it though, and Diego face is still pressed into his neck, unwilling to move either.

So Klaus does what he does best, strings letters into words into pointless sentences with no substance. “Can you imagine telling teenage us that we’d be here right now?”

“They’d probably be embarrassed by us.”

“Weren’t you going to be a rock star?”

“Yeah,” Diego glances up, laughs and it travels through his body and straight into Klaus’, “and you were going to be my favourite groupie.”

“The only one thank you very much,” Klaus levels him with a glare that’s tempered by the grin he somehow can’t keep away, “I would have made a good groupie.”

“The very best.” Diego agrees, arms settling around Klaus’ shoulders until he’s half on top of his brother. “Though I would have had to trade you in when you got old.”

“Hey! We’re the exact same age shitbird.” Klaus summons the harshest, most Five worthy scowl he can manage. Judging from the way Diego’s eyes crinkle at the corners he’s not doing a very good job of it. “Plus I’m never getting old, I’ll be forever the beautiful darling.”

“Knowing you you’d probably manage it.” Diego muses, large hands rearranging Klaus effortlessly until his backs pressing against the couch, front stretching across the line of his brothers body.

It’s easy to relax into this, harder to put together a coherent way to express what he wants. “Diego, you know that I’m… I’m- fuck.”

“I know Klaus. It’s fine.”

“I’m… serious about you.”

“Thanks.” Diego’s grinning, amused by the difficulty Klaus is having with this and he probably deserves it with all of the bullshit he’s put Two through. “I love you too.”

_Fucking shit._

He’s avoided commitment of any kind with a determination that’s only wavered once before and, well, that ended… horrifically.

But Klaus can feel that itch, that bone deep need to push himself forward again, _personal development,_ a therapist once mentioned. Maybe it’s not that, but vocalisations of his love aren’t there yet, too much to ask from his fragilely healing mind. An idea that’s been taunting him for a while floats to the surface, only this time he’s thinking of taking more than one brother with him.

He has this moment of bravery that pushes past the voice in his head deeming him insane, an intense surge that spits the words out in a rush that ends choked. “Lets get out of here.”

“What?” Diego stirs against him, hands resting on his hips as if he’s settling down for a long while.

_Shit _.__

“Leave, travel, explore, just get the hell away for a bit.”

“You’re mad.”

“We’ve both known that for years, but honestly why not.”

“Are you being serious?” Diego’s looking at Klaus like he’s about to come up with a witty punchline and it doesn’t matter that they’ve both just talked about this, clearly he has a lot of work to do before the damage he’s caused can heal.

“Of course I am, me and you, and probably Ben, when he wants to be there, the Even three taking the gap year we never had.”

“Gap year?”

Okay so Diego’s repeating himself, that’s fine, Klaus has never felt so patient. “What were we doing when we turned eighteen? You were playing Batman, I was… shit I don’t actually remember where I was, that’s depressing-” Diego goes to say something that’s probably from some misplaced sense of guilt and Klaus shushes him with a palm across his mouth, “-Ben was dead or at least to you guys. So why not use all of that bastards money on doing things that he’d fucking hate and if we get to do it together then I can’t think of anything better. Right, now you can talk?”

Diego’s brow lifts and Klaus is too slow to realise why before his palms wet and he lets out an exaggerated yelp. “That’s unhygienic number Two.”

“Really? That’s where you draw the line.” Diego huffs out a laugh but Klaus knows that look, the one his brother gets when he’s parsing through information rationally. So Klaus settles himself down for a wait, however long it may take, because Diego deserves it, has been giving Klaus that privilege long before the world went to shit.

Then finally, as if he’s not awaiting the answer to the Klaus Hargreeves equivalent of ‘will you move in’ or ‘I love you’, Diego squeezes his waist reassuringly. “Fuck it, why not.”

“Seriously?”

 _Shit_. Now he’s repeating.

Brown eyes roll. “I mean it wasn’t much of a proposition, but I’ll accept.”

“I would have prepared a speech, got down on a knee and everything but then Ben would expect the same or I would have to deal with him sulking and that seemed like too much effort-”

“Klaus.”

“-I could always ask Five to make me a PowerPoint, though then he’d probably want to come with us too and that would be fucking terrible-”

“Klaus?”

“-and if he goes then the others will probably start getting jealous-”

His ramble trails off at the feel of Diego’s fingertips tracing the hollow of his throat, pulse ticking up at the soft, suspiciously adoring, expression he’s facing.

“I accept your terrible, last minute plan that I’ll end up being the one to sort out.”

Klaus can’t handle the way his hearts jerking along in an erratic tempo but before he can do much about it Diego’s kissing him, long fingers gently holding Klaus’ face and it’s that more than anything that has him melting.

 

* * *

 

Diego looks peaceful in Klaus’ bed, eyes shut and arms crossed behind his head, an open invitation for Klaus if he wants. It’s a sight that catches him off guard when he returns from the kitchen with a large mug of coffee, black because of course his milk would be off after a month - not that Klaus didn't manage to take a mouthful before remembering.

For some reason he’s stuck in the doorway, fixated on the rise and fall of Diego’s chest, unable to ignore the steadfast manner with which his brother told him that he loved him. Without thought his fingers clutch his tags, the metals cool in his palm and it’s this that has him realising something vital.

He raises the dog tags to his mouth and presses a chaste kiss to the metal, maybe it’s wishful thinking but Klaus swears that a breeze stirs his hair, a phantom brush passes over his skin and then it’s gone. He tucks the chain back under his half buttoned shirt, where it rests comfortably, no longer a noose that carries the weight of his failures. _Okay_.

This is it, his life now. It’s not that bad.

Actually it’s fucking amazing.

_What do I want?_

He analyses each emotion as they roil from the attention. He has to be certain, he can’t afford to be wrong. The answer remains the same, at every angle and he finally gets what the poor girl meant as she confided her secret to him.

Deep down Klaus knows he'll always be cracked and broken and damaged.

And that’s okay.

Because in this space Diego makes him shine like his veins are filled with molten gold. Gives him the tools to try and shine on his own.

And that is _everything._

There’s a sharp jolt that zips through Diego’s body as Klaus zeroes in on his target, his thighs on either side of Diego’s hips and he’s pressing wet kisses down the slope of Two’s neck, tongue lashing before he bites and sucks until he can feel the blood racing beneath his lips.

Klaus’ encouraged by the moans below him as he works on his mission, won’t be satisfied until every last inch of tanned flesh turns purple and red under his ministrations.

He’s suitably enraged when a hand clasps his jaw and pulls him up into a bruising kiss, and he’s a squirming mess by the time Diego’s finished with him.

(Later he’ll smirk as he examines the lines his nails marked over that flawless skin. Entirely accidental of course.)

 _Even_ later they’ll be sprawled across the bed, and Ben’s corporeal, sitting criss cross on the floor, because he’s a whiny bitch about naked siblings. Klaus will have the laptop balanced on his knees as they look at countries and Diego, between kisses to his shoulder, will agree to every single place Klaus shows an interest in.

When the inevitable argument breaks out, Ben should know better than to call Diego whipped (even if it is true), Klaus has a minor revelation.

He’s going to have an adventure with the two most important people in his life, all of their problems will still be here when they get back, but they can wait.

Klaus is going to be just fine.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that is that, after way too long, but we got there in the end :)
> 
> Thank you so much for all of the patience and support for this story, I've been messaged on tumblr and theres been some incredibly, inspiring personal stories and I feel honoured to have heard them <3


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